


Elsewhere

by foxmoon



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Historical, Background Femslash, Children in epilogue, Conspiracy, Edwardian Period, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Past Torchwood, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Time Travel, Torchwood References, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 92,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmoon/pseuds/foxmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman gives Rose an old pocket watch with a tearful request. Rose accepts, but soon forgets as she finds herself struggling through her difficult course load. Meanwhile, she develops feelings for a professor--trouble is, he has been dead for over forty years. University AU, loosely inspired by the film Somewhere In Time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: kilodalton  
> Britpick: lauraxxtennant  
> All mistakes are mine.

_Spring, First Year, 2007_

Rose found an empty seat in the back of the auditorium and fidgeted with her mobile as she waited for the lecture to begin. The placard outside advertised an exciting adventure through space and time; perfect for a kip in the dark while some droll professor went on about the stars. She’d get the assignment mark she needed, and then she could skip out to the cinema with the girls.

Before she could locate Shareen and enter a text, the lights dimmed and a woman walked out on stage, wide heels clipping with the intent of her stride. She wore a striped blazer and black trousers; short, dusky grey hair framed her lined face.  The surrounding ambient chatter went quiet all at once, and Rose slid her mobile back into her pocket.

“Hello, everyone.  I’m Professor Susan Foreman. Welcome to Linvale University’s forty-second annual Science Discovery Fair.” She paused to smile and approach a podium. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the live experiments and student projects throughout the foyer. For now, though, let’s talk a bit about our vast, strange universe, shall we?”

A wide screen slowly lowered behind her, and she began her presentation with a video of sunlight rising over the curved edge of the Earth in space.

“Long ago, we once thought the sun revolved around the Earth,” Professor Foreman began.

Rose stifled a yawn and slouched further in her seat. Perfect. Eyes drifting shut, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and fell asleep to the relaxing presentation music.

The sound of an explosion jolted her awake, and she sat up to catch the tail end of a supernova on the screen.

“Now, technically, there’s no sound in space.” Professor Foreman said with a smirk. “Well—for argument’s sake, sound is just a lot slower in space so it might as well not be there at all. Either way, I hope you’re all awake now.”

Rose looked around, sheepish, and focused on the screen as an old timey photo of a young man appeared in place of the film.

“My grandfather, Doctor John Noble—once a professor here at Linvale University, as you may know—was particularly interested in time travel.”

Rose blinked. Wow, she must have missed quite a lot. A passing fear of having to provide evidence that she’d been paying attention raced through her, but it faded the longer she stared at the photo.

“He claimed to have developed a prototype that he alleged actually worked! Just imagine—travelling through time, being able to go back and correct past mistakes.” Professor Foreman lent a sing-song voice to her tale, but paused to shake her head. “Very few believed him, and they were right to be sceptical.”

Rose stared at the portrait, and bit at her bottom lip. He had a charming look about him, with warmth in his dark eyes, hair just unkempt enough to make it look intentional, and freckles across the bridge of his nose. Professor Foreman’s voice faded away to just a murmur in the distance as Rose drank in the details of his face. Something about the way he smiled made her heart skip a beat, like she was the one who inspired it. She felt herself blushing and averted her eyes, and finally the woman moved on to another slide that represented one of Doctor Noble’s theories on time travel.

But his image was burnt into her mind, and she could no longer take advantage of the dark auditorium to catch up on sleep. Doctor John Noble, she’d remember that. There’s nothing crazy about fancying historical blokes, is there? She’d never admit that one to Shareen, though  _she_  was also never one to deny when a man was attractive, even the imaginary ones.

When the lecture ended and the lights brightened, Rose remained in her seat, unexpectedly mesmerized by the computer simulated rogue planets and black holes. Space wasn’t necessarily something she had a particular interest in before. A passing one, same as anyone, but the Hubble image of thousands of galaxies gave her a feeling like she was part of something bigger. Like _she_  was significant simply because she was part of it all.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Rose blinked and looked up to the source of the voice. It was the lecturer, her eyes gleaming in such a strange and haunting way that made Rose sit up straighter.

“Yeah? Um, hi. Hello, that was brilliant,” Rose said, and smiled as she stood, feeling a little silly in her presence.

“It’s you. It’s really you. Oh—” Her voice broke and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Sorry?”

The woman, Professor Foreman, she’d called herself, reached into her bag and pulled out a pocket watch, then pressed it into Rose’s hand, her own trembling. Rose looked down at the watch. It was bronze, and freshly polished, with a fancy circle pattern etched on the case. A thin, but sturdy chain slipped through her fingers as she looked back up, perplexed.

“Please go back to him.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open, but she’d no idea what to say. She licked her lips and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Wha—who?”

Tears welled in the professor’s eyes. “ _Please_.” She squeezed Rose’s hands around the watch before letting go.

“All right, yeah. I will.”

What else could she say? Rose looked down at the watch, avoiding the woman’s tearful gaze, and nudged the latch open with a fingertip. The clock face inside was… It was actually  _multiple_ clock faces intersecting one another, with numbers in black around the perimeter of each interconnected circle, and gears visible along the border.

She looked up to ask  _who_  exactly, but the professor had disappeared into the crowd of students as they moved for the auditorium exit.

***

_October, Second Year, 2007_

Rose sat on the sofa with the care package her mother had delivered. She riffled through, pulled out the necessities—toiletries, teas, socks, a few new shirts, cheap art supplies that brought tears to her eyes, and other things. As she unfolded one of the shirts, something heavy slipped out and landed with a clunk on the floor.

It was the pocket watch the professor had given her months ago.She'd almost forgotten about it with the frenzy of preparing for second year of uni, and the intensity of the classes themselves. First year business school was absolutely brutal, second year was shaping up to be even worse.

She picked up the pocket watch, its delicate chain winding around her wrist, and opened it with a press of her thumb on the latch. The lid popped open, and like before, the odd design of the clock face captivated her into a quiet reflection. The flat surroundings faded away, and for a moment she believed she could lean forward and fall into the cogs and springs inside and find herself in another world. 

"That's neat. Where'd you get it?" Martha, Rose's flatmate, asked dropping a heavy medical textbook on the desk with a resounding  _thud_.

Rose gasped, snapping the pocket watch shut.  “Um, it’s, ah—mum left it for me. Guess it was granddads.”

"Ah, looks old. Did I startle you? I knocked and everything."

"Yeah, sorry. Was away with the fairies; all this studying has me going a bit mad.”  She shoved the watch under the stack of shirts. "Still going out with Tom?"

Martha smiled and hid her face in her hands. "God, can't believe I'm doing this. Shouldn't have let you talk me into it! Have an exam in the morning; a surprise, that one."

"Don't bail on ‘im now." Rose grinned. "He'll be sweet, just say you can’t stay out late."

"Yeah, maybe. Gonna shower." Martha gave an excited sort of cringe and hurried off to do just that.

Rose exhaled once the bathroom door had closed, and looked around at the items spread out on the sofa. There was a folded note she’d overlooked before, her name scrawled in the slanted loops of her mother’s handwriting on the surface. She opened it to read.

_Hello sweetheart,_

_I put some things together for you. Sorry it took a bit, you know how it is with moving. Found this old watch while cleaning out your closet in that big art portfolio. You should hang on to that one. Could be worth a fortune someday. Where_   _’d you get it anyway? Pete says he wants to hang your drawings in the new place, but I told him he_   _’d have to ask you. Ring me when you can._

_Love,_

_Mum_

She placed the letter on the tea table, and stared at the stack of shirts where she’d stuffed the pocket watch, chewing on her thumbnail as seconds ticked by. Unable to resist any longer, she pulled the watch back out of the drawer.

Memories of that day resurfaced once the watch’s weight filled her palm. She’d woken up at half ten after a long night out and realised she had to do  _something_ at the Science Fair for an exam mark. How she’d passed Jimmy Stone on the lawn, playing his stupid guitar to an adoring flock of students and narrowly escaped his notice as she rushed into the building.

The lecturer’s tearful voice as she placed the pocket watch in her hand.

_Please, go back to him._

She turned the watch over in her hand, bronze gleaming like stars in the lamplight. Sweeping her thumb over the grooved designs soothed her, and she felt a renewed pull to understand more about its origins. There was something rough engraved along the bottom edge, the initials  _J.N._

She went to the tiny desk in her room and set the watch on top of the stack of sketchpads and class notes that littered the surface. She then opened her laptop and sat down to begin her search.  Taking a deep breath, she stared at the blinking curser in the  _Google_ search field.

_Susan Foreman, McCrimmon Hall._

The university website came up; first result. Professor Susan Foreman’s biography, along with her course list. The name Doctor John Noble, her grandfather, was underlined in her bio, indicating that it was a link, and she clicked it, that name striking a chord.

It led to an article in the university history section that had been written in recent years about him, and there was the photo of him, still pretty—and now she could see his freckles so much more clearly at the crisp laptop screen resolution.

“Shame you’re from another time.”

She began to read.

_Professor John Noble, known fondly as_ _‘the Doctor,_   _’ was a pioneer of astrophysics in the early nineteen hundreds. He taught at Linvale University from 1905 until his mysterious disappearance in 1916. He returned decades later_ _with a daughter in tow, and an even more perplexing understanding of the cosmos._

It then went on to describe in droll detail the various achievements he’d won, the classes he taught, the books he’d written. And on to his family life—his parents who had been lost at sea, leaving him and his older sister, Donna, alone in the world. There was a bit about his eccentric nature, how he travelled the world, his enthusiasm for science and learning in his lectures. Nothing too unusual, per se.

Rose searched further, but there was very little about him outside of the article itself. It was as though he hadn't even existed beyond his contributions to the university. She certainly didn’t remember learning about him at all in school along with the other big names of science. It was just… odd. Odd that someone who had posited such profound and revolutionary theories, someone who’d been so beloved in his time, according to the article, would leave barely a mark on history.

“So what’s this got to do with me?”

It seemed nothing. Nothing at all. She sighed and skimmed back over the article to see if she’d overlooked something. The photograph was labeled as having been taken on December 20th, 1912. His disappearance was marked to have occurred whilst out on an expedition in 1916. He had a particular interest in time travel, built a time machine and all that. Basically, he was a nutter. A dishy nutter, but still a nutter. Oh, she was rubbish at this.

When Martha returned, she offered few details about her date (had that much time passed already?) before diving into her text book. Not that Rose could properly digest anything said, so far down the rabbit hole she was. And she really, really should study herself, but… one last thing.

She did an image search as a last ditch effort, and the only result was the same one she’d seen already, repeated several times over. Dozens of adoring smiles cast her way in sepia tones. Sighing, she closed the tab and her laptop, then placed the pocket watch in her bedside table drawer. She then went to bed after uttering a half-hearted goodnight to a still-studying Martha.

As she drifted off to sleep, she fretted over impossible assignments, and entertained a few impossible thoughts. What if his machine  _had_  worked? What if she—

***

Three weeks passed, and Rose had moved on to focus on more pressing matters. Like her first term project—a sodding business proposal presentation. She had an idea, but convincing her professor of its investment worth was gonna be impossible. Yeah, an art studio that teaches classes for low income families, and puts on art shows wouldn’t stand a chance over some of her classmates’ ideas. She couldn’t think of anything else, but she was sure to fail this damn class anyway, so why should it matter? Still, she hated presentations.

Attempts to calm her nerves failed as she crossed campus to the class in question. She nearly tripped on a step and spilled her entire project portfolio across the pavement, and she really should just turn around and pretend to have a stomach flu. She sighed and shouldered on, but a pang of regret cut through her heart. She shouldn’t’ve listened to them. A guaranteed career at Pete’s company sounded great at the time. Practical and secure, just like her mum wanted for her. But as she struggled through another year of uni, she couldn’t help feel like it’d all bean a big mistake. If only she had a time machine.

She stopped in her tracks, and turned around to head back to her flat.

When she reached her room, she tossed her books and the portfolio on her bed, grabbed the pocket watch, and slipped it into the zippered pocket of her jacket. Today, she’d pay McCrimmon Hall a visit instead of give a half-assed presentation. Maybe it was a huge mistake. Or, maybe she could find the professor who’d given her the watch and do something more interesting (less humiliating) with her time.

The walk was a bit long, and nearly to the other side of London, so she took the bus. Finally there, she pressed open the glass door to find the hall replete with studded leather furniture, gleaming brown wood, and pin-drop silence—a stark contrast to the day of the fair. The door squeaked on its hinge, and a student sitting at one of the lamplit desks off to the side looked up at her briefly. She gave an awkward smile, and then headed over to one of the flights of steps that curved around the perimeter of the foyer.

There, under the stairs, was an office, its door propped open to let a florescent glow spill out on the marble tile. Rose approached, craning her neck to see a woman staring, face blank and bored, at her monitor. She looked up and gave her mouse a click as Rose drew near.

“May I help you?”

“Ah, yes. Looking for Professor Foreman?”

“She’s retired, dear. Few weeks ago now.”

“Oh.” Puzzled, Rose chewed on her lip. A pang of sadness struck her, and she brought her hand up to feel the circular outline of the watch in her pocket.

“Professor Garrett has taken over for her, maybe he could help you?”

“Well, um, I’m actually looking for more information on her grandfather—John Noble? S’for a class.”

“You’ll need to go up the stairs, take a left, and then head down the second hall to your right. That’s where you’ll find a lot of the photos and things from McCrimmon Hall’s history. Maybe someone up there can help you.”

“Right, thanks.”

She turned and followed the path she’d been instructed to take, and entered a wood-paneled hallway. Dusty photos hung in symmetrical patterns. Photos of the building from the 1800s, of old academic clubs, interspersed with spotlit, heavy framed portraits of previous headmasters, and smaller, color photos of professors from the recent past. She searched each one until she spotted him, standing with the astronomy club of 1911.

He was tall and lanky, his pinstriped suit cut more slender than others of his time. A pocket watch chain hung from a waistcoat pocket, and she squinted, leaning close, to see if it's the same as—

"Hello, my dear. Are you lost?"

Rose spun towards the voice to find an older gentleman in glasses standing there. He blinked and gave her a peculiar look.

"No, I'm just looking for information on a professor that taught here in the early nineteen hundreds. For a class." She smiled and tucked a stand of hair behind her ear.

He nodded and glanced over her shoulder to the picture she'd been studying. "The Doctor?"

"Yeah, um, John Noble. There wasn't much on the net."

"Come with me, ah-"

"Ro-er-Lily. Lily Ss-smith. Lily Smith." Couldn't have anyone know she was here.

"Lovely. Just call me Wilf, I'm the historical custodian of McCrimmon Hall." He put out his hand and she shook it. "Didn't mean to imply you're lost, just don't get many visitors."

"S'okay. Nice to meet you."

Rose followed him deeper down the hallway.

"Get a few tours through the year, but very few students. Anyway, the Doctor, he was called. Requested that any detailed information about his life be kept off the internet. He didn't quite call it that, but it was strange what he knew for a fellow who died in the early seventies."

Rose was half listening, half searching for more pictures of him along the wall as they went. They reached a turn and there at the end of the hall was the portrait of him she'd already seen. Wilf continued on down the hall, still talking, but she was too captivated by the look in the Doctor's eyes to register.

It was like he was staring right at her with a depth of longing to his gaze that made her heart race. She drifted closer, searching his face, putting every detail to memory. Her stomach did a flip at the realization her eyes had focused on his bottom lip. She licked her own and shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it.

"There you are, thought I bored you into running." Wilf had returned, chuckling.

"Oh, s-sorry. Yeah i was just-" she pointed at the portrait.

Wilf squinted at her again, tilting his head.

"What?"

“You look awfully familiar. Anyway," he dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "this way. There’s some things of his in storage in the attic. He lived at the uni, did you know? Is it a biography?”

“Huh? Oh. Um, yeah.” She resumed following Wilf up another flight of stairs and to a thick, metal door.

He fussed with the keys for a bit, and then finally had the door open. They ascended another flight of steps, wooden and worn with age, that led up to an open space filled with boxes and furniture and filing cabinets. Shafts of sunlight pierced the space from around the curtain of the small window, and paintings, faded and chipped from age, were hung on exposed wall beams. The smell of must and aged paper overwhelmed her senses for a moment, and she coughed.

“Sorry for the dust. Over there is his alleged time machine.” Wilf gestured to what looked like a faded blue wardrobe trimmed with chipped golden designs similar to what was etched on the outside of the pocket watch.

Rose walked up to it and ran her hand along the smooth wood. “It's beautiful. A bit sad for it to be stuffed up here, yeah?”

Wilf laughed. “You can take that up with him. He said it was imperative that it remain right here in this spot. Left it in his will and everything.”

“What’s inside?”

“No idea. It’s locked up, and the key’s long gone. Though Professor Foreman said it has a bench seat on one side and a glass column on the other. A control panel of sorts, perhaps, but sounds like a bit much to fit in that little thing.”

Rose walked around the box, measuring it up, and then scanned the rest of the room. “So, I can just go through this stuff, then?”

“Oh, just keep to this side here,” he gestured with a sweeping motion of his arm to the entire right side of the attic. “The rest is archival storage for other things. Were true when he lived here, too.”

“All right, thanks.” Rose took a few steps towards a filing cabinet.

“Also, don’t touch that.” He pointed to a large telescope aimed up at the ceiling. “I come up here sometimes and look at the stars, have it aimed right at the Pleiades. Perfect time of year.”

“Ceiling opens?”

“Yeah, on a crank there. Ol’ Professor Noble had it rigged up that way. Was a massive stargazer himself. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Need to meet a benefactor for tea. If you have to go, just pull the door closed and drop off the key by my office. I’m just off to the left when you get back to the main hall. Wilfred Mott.” He worked the key off of its ring and tossed it to her.

She caught it and slid it into her jeans pocket. “Thanks, thank you, really.”

“Good luck.” He turned to go.

She heard his footsteps descend the stairs, followed by the heavy _thunk_  of the door sealing shut.

Now cocooned in the stuffy warmth of the attic, Rose studied her surroundings. There was a bed shoved against the far wall, just under the slant of ceiling beams, piled high with books. The filing cabinets nearby were unlabeled, and she pulled on the nearest drawer to find it filled with lesson plans and curriculum notes from long ago. The other drawers revealed more of the same.

She pulled one of the folders out, its contents brittle and yellowed with age. There, on the inside, was a lesson plan for the scientific method. His handwriting filled the page, flowing beyond the prescribed structure of the layout, racing up along every margin. He’d also left little drawings, equations, notes on which students would benefit from what kinds of examples.

When she found herself smiling, assuming his charming personality from nothing more than notes on a page, she closed the folder and slid it back into its home. Rolling her eyes at herself, she moved on to the desk, opening all of the drawers. They were empty, save for a few folder brads and a ruler.

The books on the bed were a mixture of antiquarian science books, historical tomes, and literature in varied languages. She wandered to another wardrobe and pried it open, finding nothing within but a tie hanging from a hook. Reaching out without thinking, she took the tie in her hand, running her fingertips along the silken fabric. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the base board in the wardrobe was slightly askew, and she kneeled down to inspect it. There was a corner where she could pry a finger into and it popped up, whinging on a hinge. She opened it all the way and stared dumbly at what was beneath.

A charcoal sketch of her own face staring back at her, hair pulled back in combs and styled softly around her face in a typical Edwardian coif. The faint tracings of lace could be seen at her neck, and simple, but elegant earrings dangled from her ears.

Pulse pounding, she lifted the drawing delicately to find an old leather field journal underneath. She set the drawing aside, and brought it to her lap and unbuckled the strap keeping it closed, the sharp smell of leather and old paper filling her nostrils. Reminded her of the ancient encyclopedias at her primary school library, or the used bookstore around the corner from the laundrette where her mother would send her to peruse for trashy romances whilst the laundry ran.

Inside were more drawings. Schematics. Notes in the same handwriting as the lesson plans. Equations that filled entire pages. There were diagrams of the blue wardrobe, and of the pocket watch—the very same she held in her hand.

She looked down, not remembering when she’d pulled it out, but there it was in her open palm. A glance back at the blue wardrobe Wilf had called the Doctor’s time machine incited a rush of apprehension.

“Can’t be real.”

Flipping the page in the journal once more, she found another drawing of the woman who looked like her. This time, she was a rough sketch, hair falling around her face, over her eye. Her lips were full and smiling, eyes narrow, coy. There were blotches in the ink, smudges from a trembling hand, and a phrase scratched out below, made illegible by too much ink on the pen.

With trembling hands, she shut the journal and put it back, placed the drawing over it, and closed the compartment. She stood and backed away from the wardrobe a few steps, eyes skimming over her surroundings, just waiting for someone to jump out and tell her she’s been had—that she’s on camera and a victim of the most ludicrous prank in the world.

Her back hit the blue wardrobe, and she yelped in surprise, nearly stumbling into a coat rack and knocking it over. A long, brown trench coat swayed from its hook, disturbed by her blunder. She held onto it to prevent it from falling over, and stood as still as possible to steady her breathing.

Time travel wasn’t possible. That couldn’t have been her—everyone has a twin somewhere in the world, yeah?

_Please, go back to him._

The memory of Professor Foreman's forlorn eyes swam into her mind, chased by a shiver us her spine. Too eerie; this is all just too bloody strange. Giving a business presentation began to sound a lot more appealing.

Her mobile buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Martha.

_Where are you? Tom says you weren_   _’t in class._

Shit. And the time—nearly two o’clock! She inhaled and shook her head, stuffing the mobile back into her jacket pocket. The chain of the pocket watch caught on her fingers as she went to withdraw her hand, and she pulled it out, considering leaving it on the desk and never looking back.

Instead, she raced down the stairs, taking two at a time, and barreled out of the door. As she rushed down the hall, she bumped into Wilf who had just finished up his meeting with the benefactor. The force of the collision knocked the watch from her hand and it went rolling down the hall, chain smacking the floor as it went.

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry!”

Wilf stumbled back against the wall, knocking a photo askew. “Goodness, what’s wrong?”

“Gonna be late for class. I’m so sorry! Are you all right?” She reached for him.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” He chuckled and straightened out his cardigan, and brushed himself off. “You dropped something down there.”

Rose followed his gesture to the pocket watch on the floor. It had come to rest at the foot of a small table topped by a lamp on a doily. She hurried over to pick it up, and caught sight of the portrait of Professor Noble at the end of the hall. Her stomach flipped and blood rushed to her cheeks, embarrassed.

“I’m going mad. You’re just a picture,” she said to herself. Standing, she schooled her features and turned back to Wilf.

He pointed her way, finger taping the air. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry, ah Lily, was it? I just remembered who you remind me of.”

She shook her head to move the hair that had fallen across her face, and pocketed the watch. “Y-yeah?”

“There’s a drawing of a woman somewhere up there, that’s where I’ve seen your face before. Susan said her name was Rose. S’all she’d say though. Anyway, you look right like her, I daresay.”

Rose shook her head slightly, hairs rising on the back of her neck. “S’not—can’t be me.”

Wilf laughed. “’Course not! There’s a likeness, for sure. Unless he really did invent a time machine. Maybe she’s a long lost relative?”

Rose let out a breathy laugh that she was sure wasn’t at all convincing. “Right. Maybe.”

“Anyway, have things to do. You be careful.” Wilf smiled with a wave, and turned away to head for his office.

Rose waited until he’d gone around the corner, and then let out a whoosh of breath as she doubled over, hands on her knees. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut. If it really was her—if she’d actually gone back in time… She stood up and looked over her shoulder at the portrait of Professor Noble, and then back down to the pocket watch.

Without a second thought, she headed back up to the attic.

She reached the top of the steps, and the blue wardrobe loomed in the slanted ray of afternoon sunlight from the window. She fidgeted with the pocket watch in her hand and chewed a nail on her other. Searching its surface over, she found a little circular dip in the golden design that crossed the door. She put the watch in the hollow space, and it clicked as she pressed it into place. There was a winding noise—like gears turning, and then a series of clicks, followed by the release of a latch within.

Rose pulled on the handle, and the door opened. Inside was just how he said Professor Foreman had described. A bench squished into the left side, a glass tube rising from a control panel squished against the right. Cramped, but somehow it all fit. She plucked the pocket watch from the door and stepped inside, taking a seat on the bench. On the control panel, in addition to the levers and knobs, was another circular space like the one on the door. She bit her lip and flipped open the watch.

“’Kay, there’s gotta be some reason why you look like this.”

One face was set to 12:20, the other to 1:09, and the last to 12:00.

“Twelve… twenty…” Maybe it was a date. She tilted her head, face scrunching as she stared. “One-oh-nine... Twelve." That made little sense. She gazed at it until the numbers blurred together, and time itself began to make little sense. Shaking her head, she refocused. The short hand pointed at the number one, and the long at the number nine. "One-nine, then?" Nineteen. And the last face was set to twelve on the dot.

"Twelve-twenty, nineteen twelve." It's a date! Twelve-twenty must be twenty-twelve. December 20th, 1912!

All of her earlier apprehension is washed away by a flood of adrenaline. Grinning, she popped the watch into the circular space on the control panel and pressed with her thumb.

Just like with the door, a sequence of clicks followed, and then a low, soft hum. She pulled the doors closed just as the glass tube lit up with a pulsing green light. A feeling like flying down the steep hill of a roller coaster pulled at her belly, and then everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Kilodalton  
> Britpick: Lauraxxtennant  
> All mistakes are mine.

The soft lilt of a piano awoke Rose, and she opened her eyes to the darkness inside of the wardrobe time machine. Dim, colorful light seeped through a crack between the doors, and she sat forward to peer beyond the thin space. That was when she realized her vision had gone blurry; she squeezed her eyes shut and tried again.

A blackboard with chalked equations was propped against the stairway bannister, and a stained glass lamp rested on the edge of a table nearby. There wasn’t much else she could see, so she closed her eyes as the piano music played on, crackling intermittently, like on a record. The melody took on a somber key, and its heaviness began to pull her along, stirring up sad thoughts. Her eyes sprung open at the sound of a door latch turning.

Footsteps ascended the wooden steps, accompanied by a pleasant hum, and Rose held her breath. A shadow passed by the crack in the wardrobe doors, and the smell of tea and aftershave wafted by with it. She bit her lip, heart doing barrel rolls in her chest.

The soft clink of a teacup being set on a table was followed by a heavy sigh.

"Really don't want to do this."

Her skin tingled from the sound of his gentle, soothing voice. Was it him? It had to be! Pain shot through her lip as she bit a little too hard to keep herself from squeaking in excitement. She went back in time! She actually, properly went back in time!

He took a sip of his tea, and she wondered if she should just… pop out and say hello. No, he’d think she was barmy—a strange woman hiding in his wardrobe! She was beginning to wonder how she got there, when his footsteps crossed the floor. Peering through the crack, she saw him putting on a tie, his arms bent up to wench the knot into place. His back was to her, though that didn’t stop her from admiring his broad shoulders and the little lock of soft, brown hair that curled behind his ear.

He turned to walk towards the staircase, and stopped right by the wardrobe in which she hid. She went as still as possible, heard him take a deep breath, heard the rustle of his jacket as he reached out to touch the wardrobe. 

She licked her lips, eyes focusing on the long fingers of the hand that rested at his side. An itch cropped up beside her nose, and her leg was getting cramped in her current position. She moved to relieve some of the pressure on her knee when something hard slipped from her pocket. With a soft gasp, she caught the strange object in her hand before it could make a clatter on the floor of the wardrobe.

“Huh.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, her heart sped up in a panic. How would she explain how she got here? She heard his hand slide along the door towards the handle as she glanced down at what she’d caught—some sort of thin, dark case. Her finger accidentally hit a button on its side as she attempted to turn it around, and the object lit up, displaying a message.

_Where are you? Tom says you weren_ _’t in class._ Martha, 12 Nov., 2007.

Rose blinked as a wave of dizziness came over her. There was a pulling sensation in her belly, followed by blurred vision. She inhaled and exhaled, trying to will it away, but it only grew stronger and stronger until everything went dark.

“Rose? Rose, are you up here?”

Wilf’s voice split through the quiet. Rose opened her eyes to the glow of the glass tube, and dread dropped through her stomach.

“No…No! I was there!” She felt around on the small console, vision blurred by tears, and found that the pocket watch was no longer pressed into the recess, but popped slightly out of it.

“He-hello?” His footsteps drew closer to the wardrobe.

“I’m—I’m here.” Her voice wavered under the weight of her distress.

“You were there, weren’t you?” There was wonder in his voice, and she heard him step closer.

That’s when it clicked—he’d called her by her real name. She pushed open the door to the wardrobe and stepped out, shielding her eyes from the relative brightness of the attic room. She glanced over at Wilf, who had an old fashioned dress folded over his forearm.

“Yeah, I was. H-how do I go back? I want to—” Her voice caught on the words, and she looked down to steel herself against the rising of emotions.

“Blimey…” Wilf stared at the time machine in disbelief, and then blinked out of it. “Uh, Susan said you can’t have anything from the future, or you’ll be brought back. Breaks the spell.”

Rose looked down at the mobile in her hand and clenched her jaw. “You called me by my name. You knew, didn’t you?”

“No, love. You had the pocket watch. Susan had it with her every day. Said she was holding it for the woman in the drawings—for Rose. I went straight away to give her a ring, and she told me how to help you. Said she’d come herself, but she’s not well.”

“S-so I can try again, yeah? I’m gonna try again. Wait—how much time has passed?”

“Not sure when you went in, but I was on the phone with her for about thirty minutes. I’m not sure how it all works, to be honest. Seems unsafe, if you ask me. What if you get stuck there? What about all the people who might miss you—”

“Susan, that’s Professor Foreman, right? Yeah, she’s the one who gave me this watch; she was upset when she did. Seemed to be very important to her, so I should go back and see why. You let her know that I’m doing it, ‘kay? Tell her it’ll be all right. And my mum—I-I don’t know. I’ll find a way back, I will. But not before I see what’s—I have to. He needs me.” She looked down at the watch as she fidgeted with her earring.

Wilf nodded. “You’ve your mind made up. I’ll let her know.”

Rose looked over to the desk, almost expecting to see a tea mug there. Professor Noble—the Doctor, he’d been right there, just a few steps away. His voice came to her mind, though the words weren’t so clear, and she weighed the reasons why she wanted to do this. Why she felt she had to. She reached out in the space of the room as though she might be able to feel his presence through the layers of time.

“You’ll need to change.” He held up the dress. “I brought this one. Should help immerse you. There’s a storage room for the drama department just a few doors down—lots of period costumes there. I’ll go hunt down some accessories, and meanwhile, you should think of a story for yourself. According to Susan, er, John’s writings, the traveller forgets he’s from another time. You’ll believe your story, like hypnosis in a way, and your mind will fill in details to help immerse you further. Anything from your original time will bring you right back to the present.”

“That’s why…” She looked down to her mobile, recalling how confused she’d been at its presence.

Wilf slung the dress over the banister and placed a coin on top. “There’s a coin minted in 2007, so if you’re in trouble, that’ll bring you back.”

Rose nodded, watching him.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Be back shortly with a few things—you think about your story.”

Rose sighed and closed her eyes. What the hell kind of story could she come up with? She knew very little about the early nineteen hundreds. She chewed on her lip and went over to the dress, holding it up to herself. A corset and underclothing set fell out from beneath it, and she bent to pick it up. It was all so lovely, the dress itself a creamy colour with lace and ribbon accents, a silk sash tied high on her waist, and a swishy hemline that fell to the tops of her feet.

She spent time removing her clothing and getting dressed—fussed a bit with the corset clasps in the front, but eventually managed fine on her own. There was a mirror turned sideways near the wardrobe on the other side of the room, and she pulled it out to look at herself.

Her hair would definitely need some sort of style. She twisted it into a bun, making a face, and let it go as she heard Wilf knocking below.

“Come up.”

He returned with hair combs, gloves, earrings, shoes, and a coin purse. “Not much, but better than jeans and a zippered jacket. If you plan on staying longer than a couple of days, you might need to find another outfit.”

Rose grinned. “Thanks. How do I look?” She lifted out the sides of the dress and spun.

“Oh, you look the part. Just a treat.”

She slid on the shoes and other accessories, and then pulled her hair back in a twist, fixing it in place with the combs, all the while mulling over her story. Something simple, something she wouldn’t have to bend over backwards to prove. Something that might impress—stop. Butterflies did somersaults in her stomach and she shook her head, pulling herself away from that line of thinking. She gazed at herself in the mirror, focused on the urgency of Professor Foreman’s request.  

“I’m Rose Tyler from a small village south of London. I’m here looking for work to help pay for medicine for my sick mother. I’m looking for Professor John Noble, an astrophysics professor here.” Rose turned towards Wilf as she adjusted the sash at her waist. “How’s that?”

“Think it’ll do.” He smiled. “You’re sure you want to do this? S’all a bit impossible, innit?”

Rose smiled back and grabbed the pocket watch from the desk where she’d placed it whilst dressing. “Yep, I was there.”

“What if you’re trapped there? In another time…”

“I’ll be with the man who invented a time machine. I reckon if anyone could help me get back, it’d be him.” She smoothed her hands down the front of the dress and looked around. “And just in case, I’ll have the coin.”

Wilf nodded. “Very well; just-just be careful.”

Rose nodded, slipping the coin into a small pocket within her coin purse.

“Good luck. Gonna keep watch, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Rose sought out her mobile on the pile of her clothing. She pulled up the text from Martha, and entered a message.

_Stomach ache, went to the nurse, I_   _’m ok. have something to do, I_   _’ll be back_

Text sent, she tossed the mobile back on the pile of clothing and gave Wilf a little wave. “See ya.”

He waved back. “Godspeed, Rose Tyler.”

She re-entered the time machine and placed the pocket watch back into the circular recess, pressing it until the console lit up like before. She sat down, and closed her eyes, repeating her story to herself.

_I_   _’m Rose Tyler, twenty years old. From Powell, small town, south of London. My mum_   _’s sick; I_   _’m here to find work to help pay for her medicine. Dad died when I was little. It_   _’s just us, and she_   _’s getting worse. Was told to find Professor John Noble. Check the small pocket if my life is in danger._

After repeating the story like a mantra in her mind, and visualizing herself walking the halls, asking around for John Noble, she felt the familiar pull in her belly. A wave of dizziness overcame her, and then everything faded away.

 

_20 th December, 1912_

The scent of tea and that same mournful piano awoke her, and she smiled, joy filling her heart. She remained quiet for a few moments, letting it sink in that she’d actually skipped an important class assignment to go back in time. It was too late now for second guesses.

Biting her lip, she picked up the pocket watch, slid it into her coin purse, and pressed open the cupboard doors. Her shoe met the wooden floor with a click, and she stopped, holding her breath with an inhale. All was quiet. Feeling confident that she was alone, she took in the room surrounding her.

It was quaint as an attic flat could be. Lived in, though a bit cold and drafty. There were no paintings on the exposed wooden beams, and the books were like new, lined up neatly on shelves instead of piled on the bed. He had a blackboard that blocked the stairway bannister, and his desk was covered in papers and books. She smiled, and just breathed in the scent that lingered on the air. Tea and pine and paper and sandalwood.

Right, just go find him, see why it was so important for her to, and then go home. A little flirt along the way wouldn’t harm anything.

She descended the attic stairs and into the corridor below, where she was swallowed whole by intricate patterns on everything.  _Everything._  The walls, the picture frames, the chairs, the tables, the carpet. Nothing was untouched by airy, floral colors and patterns. It all felt rather light and welcoming, though it disoriented her, the overly ornate wallpaper and extravagant décor that certainly hadn’t been there before. But, neither had she… her vision went blurry, and she shook her head to fend off the wave of confusion. Ah, she must’ve come down this hall to visit the ladies.

She made her way down the hallway and another flight of stairs, and on until she reached the open foyer. She rested her hands on the bannister, and swept her eyes over the small crowd of people below.

Ladies in long, romantic dresses with big hats and lacy fans. Gentlemen with waistcoats and bowties. They mingled and laughed and danced to live music—a harp, piano and string quartet. A massive Christmas tree practically encrusted with ornaments and lights in the midst of it all. Holly boughs with actual silver bells draped along the grand staircase. Everything was so excessive, so bright, and hope blossomed in her chest at the sight of it.

“I made it.”

She smiled and trailed her hand along the bannister as she made her way over to the staircase where a man and woman were engaged in conversation a short distance away. She approached them, forcing a pleasant smile through her trembling nerves.

“Ah—hello.”

The woman lifted an eyebrow after looking Rose up and down, her flower-decked hat poised at a tilt on her head. “Are you lost, child? Classes are off for Christmas, you know.”

“I, um, yeah. I think I am a bit lost. I’m Rose—looking for Professor Noble. Is he around?”

“I haven’t a clue, dear. Knowing him, he’s up in his attic room working on that ridiculous contraption.”

The gentleman gave a lofty chuckle at that.

Rose narrowed her eyes, but glanced over at the Christmas tree, trying to assess what was going on. “So, this is some kind of Christmas party, yeah? S’nice; posh.”

“Whatever other kind of Christmas party should there be?” The gentleman said, laughing.

Rose forced a laugh with him, scratching behind her ear and looking askance. What arseholes. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Where’d you get that frock, anyway? Haven’t seen that cut in nearly a decade!” The woman placed her gloved hand on her chest as she fluttered a small, painted fan, her tone taking on a kind of mock kindness that made Rose want to break her stupid fan in half.

Instead, Rose looked down at her gown and shrugged. “Oh, this? I got it at the not gonna care about what some old—”

Someone grasped her hand and tugged, and she looked up in shock to see Professor Noble, grinning at her.

“Hello! Come with me, I need a hand, would you?”

Rose lost her breath at the sight of him—of Professor Noble—her mouth opening and closing in an embarrassing fishlike manner. She nodded numbly and blinked a few too many times. His hand was warm against hers, and she threaded her fingers through instinctively.

He winked at her, and then lifted his chin as he addressed the man and woman she’d been talking to. “Pardon us—she’s my assistant. Have an experiment going.”

The woman gave him a reproachful glare, and Rose didn’t have time to assess the man’s reaction before Professor Noble began pulling her along with him down the grand staircase. When they reached the bottom, he let go and moved around to stand in front of her.

“Sorry, you looked like you needed an out, and I figured you’d make my entrance much grander than it would’ve been were I on my own.” He flashed a cheeky smile.

Rose stared up at him, heart hammering in her throat, blocking any words from making their way out. She then shook her head and breathed in a rush of willpower. He was  _flirting_. She’d take it and run.

Her mouth pursed, she tilted her head. “I dunno, was having a bit of fun with ‘em.” She shot a cheeky smile right back, rivalling his own.

He grinned. “You’re brave! That was the headmaster and his wife.” Fine lines splayed from the corners of his eyes, and the glow from the nearby tree decorations dappled flecks of silver light across his pinstriped suit.

Rose’s eyes widened. “No! Oh, god!” She laughed. “You’re havin’ me on!”

“I’d never!” He laughed along, a genuine laugh, and then sobered as he squinted at her. “ So, what brings you here, ah—”

“Oh, um—I’m Rose, Rose Tyler. My mum, she’s… she’s ill, and I need to find work to help pay for medicine. I-I’ve come a very long way.”

“You’ve come to a university staff Christmas party to look for work? Blimey—well, suppose you’ve come to the right place. I do actually need an assistant, but, eerrr, you might not be interested in—well.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around. “Oh! I’m John Noble, astrophysics professor.” He stuck out his hand.

“The Doctor—I know.” Rose took it, and he squeezed it gently before letting go, his gaze jumped from her hand to her mouth as a smile bloomed on her face.

He blinked and swallowed, eyes still focused on her smile. “Erm… right.”

“I mean—if it’s okay for me to call you that—isn’t that what people call you?” Oh god, did she call him  _Doctor_  before he had the nickname? The room around her spun, and she shook it off as she let her eyes linger on the tiny details of his face that helped to ground her. The shape of his nose, the adorable cleft in his chin, how one ear was a bit odd compared to the other.

“Oh, yes! They do. I rather like it.” He smiled and slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “Prefer it, even. Came up with it.” He swallowed and tugged at his ear, squinting up at the Christmas tree. “Actually, it hasn’t quite caught on, but someday it must.”

“Yeah.” Rose let out a breath, a laugh made airy by the fluttering sensation in her stomach, and played with a lock of hair that had slipped from her combs. Now that she had him there before her eyes, and her pulse had stopped racing enough so she could focus, she braved a long look at him. His hair was soft and brown, just perfect for plunging her fingers into, and he was at just the right height so that she’d have to lift to her toes to give him a kiss. Ultimately, he was even more gorgeous in person, which both dismayed and enticed her. She was beginning to question why that line of thinking had even occurred to her (more gorgeous in person? She must’ve seen a photograph…), when he bowed slightly.

“It was lovely to meet you, Rose. I wish you luck in finding employment.”

“Thanks, yeah.” Rose shook her head, thinking he meant to end their conversation.  She smiled, though she was sure it looked more like a grimace as she searched for how to keep him from walking away.

He stood there a moment longer, and an awkward tension fell between them, punctuated by laughter and music from the festivities surrounding them.

And then someone pulled him away by the elbow, drawing him to a gathering of professors all carrying on and greeting each other’s spouses. Rose watched for a moment, fidgeting with her glove, adjusting the coin purse strapped to her wrist, fixing the scratchy neckline of her dress.

The Doctor—he preferred that name—then glanced over her way, searching, and when he found her still standing there, he smiled. It was a different sort of smile than the ones he’d given her before. It belied fondness, and maybe a bit of wonder. She looked down shyly, and when she looked back up, he had turned away again to resume his conversation with the others.

Rose wasn’t about to just stand there like a muppet, so she began to wander a bit, making her way around the perimeter of the crowd and marveling at the elegant dresses and decorations. There was a cluster of tables at one side of the foyer, and an open space in the other, where couples were dancing to the music. She hovered between the two groups by the buffet table, and ate a few nibbles before she realised people in her vicinity were casting odd looks her way and whispering behind hands.

Feeling uneasy, she made her way back towards where she last saw the Doctor, but he wasn’t there. She scanned the area, and saw someone who he’d been talking to just moments ago, a woman with long ginger hair and a simple purple dress with a sheer shawl around her shoulders.

“Excuse me, but the Doctor—Professor Noble—was he just here?”

“The Doctor…? Oh! You mean John.” She laughed. “He went back that way; they’re doing photographs for the yearbook.” The woman pointed to a hallway that led away from the foyer.

“Thank you!” Rose hurried in that direction, but slowed her steps as she entered the hallway. This was a bit mad, wasn’t it? He was a professor, and she was a… not a student. Right, so, it shouldn’t scandalize anyone. She bit her lip and moved onward until she found a small crowd of people, and heard the little burst of a camera taking a picture. Soon after, a woman exited the room, her wide hat nearly taking out a decorative lantern on the wall as she went.

“Yes, yes. Sit like that. Just let me put in the plate, ” the photographer said.

Rose overheard the photographer as she approached the room, ignoring officious glares from the people in the queue.

Nobody stopped her, so she kept on, wandered right into the classroom that had been repurposed for the photography session, and saw the Doctor sitting there in front of a plain backdrop.

“All right, smile a little or something, look like you want to be here.” The photographer ducked into place behind the tripod.

Rose smiled as the Doctor caught her eye, and his face lit up, posture straightening. Something about the look on his face was hauntingly familiar, but she held his gaze.

“That’s better!” The camera shutter went off. “Thank you. Next!”

The Doctor jumped up and took a couple of broad strides to reach her. “Lady Rose.”

Rose smiled. “Just Rose is fine.”

“Were you looking for me?” He asked (was that hope in his voice?) as they walked together to the hallway.

“Yes!” Calm down, Rose. “I mean… I was, yes.”

They emerged from the hall just under the edge of the grand staircase, and stopped at the cusp of the foyer.

“So, Rose Tyler, have you decided?”

Rose looked up at him quizzically. “Decided? Oh! I—I’d love to, but—”

“Brilliant! That’s settled, then.”

Rose laughed. “You’re not gonna ask me my experience?”

“Nah. You said you came a long way.” He sniffed. “You’re doing this to help your mother. Already I can see that you’re brave, compassionate, and determined. Valuable traits for any position at a university.”

Rose felt herself blushing again, but she wouldn’t let him leave it at that. She knew nothing about astrophysics—whatever sort of assisting he likely needed, she was woefully underqualified for it.

“I worked in a shop before. S’the only job I’ve held. My father was killed in a carriage accident when I was young, and since then it’s just been me and mum. I know the names of planets, and think the stars at night are beautiful—but I don’t know anything else about them.” The words came out without much thought, but once she’d spoken them, she felt a prickling behind her eyes.

The Doctor’s eyes roamed over her for a quiet moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft and kind. “You came a very long way.”

Rose nodded and looked down, her heart skipping a beat. “Yes. You’ve no idea.”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” His eyes narrowed curiously, head tilting.

“Me? Was what me?” Her brows knit together. “Oh, I was told to look for you, is that what you mean?”

A strange look entered his eyes, like he was figuring something out. He took a deep breath, and stepped closer to her. “You’ll be compensated, of course. I’ll get the necessary paperwork to you from the offices, and if you need a place to stay, you can stay in my room. I live here at the university. Well, sort of. I don’t really have a  _home_. Anyway, I’ll sleep on the sofa in my office.”

Rose couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but just let herself fall into his eyes, so open and sincere.  Nodding, she licked her lips, a gesture his eyes focused on intently.

“John!”

The Doctor jerked his head over to the sound of his name. The ginger woman who had helped her find him before was hurrying over to them. She smiled tightly to Rose. “Do forgive me for intruding. Just a moment.” And with that—once again—he was pulled away from her.

Rose watched them, set on edge by the way the woman kept looking over at her with a sceptical glance. Bits of their conversation drifted over the noise, and she strained to listen in.

“Who is that young woman?” The ginger asked, her eyebrows raised and lips pursed in exaggerated, teasing interest.

A burst of laughter and applause as a musician gave a little introduction to their next piece made it difficult to hear whatever they said next. Rose tried to not make it too obvious that she was eavesdropping, and pretended to study the lace pattern of her glove.

“—there was hardly time—”

“Oh, for—You were  _conversing_ , John, why not?”

The Doctor gave her a scandalized expression. “Just—gah! She’s looking at us, thanks a lot.”

“Well, just wanted to do you a favour, you skinny poppet.”

“I’m sure.”

The Doctor glanced over at Rose with a sheepish smile. His eyes cut up above her head, and then back to the ginger woman. “You’re insufferable.”

Rose began to look up, to see what he’d seen, but he was now returning to her, and she only had eyes for him. She smiled as he approached.

“Hello.”

“Hi. Sorry. That was my sister, Donna. She’s a little,” he made a face and then shrugged.

“Your sister, that’s a relief—I mean, that’s good. She seems nice.”

“Yes, well.” He sniffed and looked up. “Seems to have caught us under the mistletoe.”

Rose looked up with him, and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

“I won’t have people saying a single derogatory word about you, so. Let’s just…” He gently placed a hand on her lower back and guided her over to the buffet. “I’m a bit peckish, anyway. Are you?”

Rose nodded as she went along with him, her mouth twisting in disappointment. “Oh, let them talk,” she murmured under her breath.

He grabbed a handful of nibbles and then looked down to her. “You like looking at stars, you said.”

She took a puff pastry from the table and brought it to her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Yes.”

“What else do you like to do?”

“Um. I, ah… do a bit of sketching. Real life stuff, mostly. People and nature.” She licked the sugar from her lips. The pastry was so unbelievably sweet, and she coughed a bit.

A slow smile spread across the Doctor’s face. “What say you—I’ll show you the stars, and you can draw something for me. I have a telescope in the attic, perfect evening for it. Err—I mean, if you’re comfortable with that. Definitely not suggesting that you…” He sighed and stuffed a few more nibbles in his mouth, a blush creeping over his face.

Rose swallowed the last of the pastry and smiled. “I’d love to.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Kilodalton  
> Britpick: Lauraxxtennant  
> All mistakes are mine.

Rose followed the Doctor through the mingling crowd towards the stairs. He kept a casual stride, and she kept her eyes above his waist—now wasn’t the time to get caught staring at a professor’s bum.

Just as they reached the Christmas tree by the bannister, someone grabbed him by the elbow.

“John, do come over here and join us for a moment,” said the gentleman in white collar and coattails.

The Doctor put on a pleasant face. “Oh, certainly.”

He followed the other man to ring of older professors who were close by drinking from tiny elegant glasses. They all quieted their discussion, and the man who had stolen him away clapped him on the shoulder.

“I was just telling them about your latest, ah…  _invention_. Care to elaborate?”

A couple of the men chuckled and exchanged knowing looks. Rose frowned.

The Doctor grinned, not seeming to catch on that he’d been pulled into a trap. “Oh, yes! I’ve made a breakthrough on my time travel theorem. Sent a thimble to the future with ninety-two percent success.”

The men laughed, and one asked, “Is that so? What happened to the other eight percent of the thimble?”

“Oh, it was intact. I attempted to send it five minutes into the future, but only managed to send it 4.6 minutes into the future. You see, I’d forgotten to adjust for—”

The men began to laugh in earnest, breaking him off.

“Oh, don’t say another word! This is splendid!”

“It’s as if the Time Traveller were brought to life! Tell us more about the fourth dimension, would you?”

“Are you a professor of literature or a professor of science?”

The Doctor’s proud smile broke Rose’s heart, and she reached for him, sliding her arm through his. “Pardon me, sirs, but Professor Noble is needed over here.”

None of them appeared to mind much as she pulled him away, though the Doctor frowned.

“Rose, I was just about to tell them how I almost have travel from the future-to-past solved.”

“Yes, but I don’t think they were truly interested. Maybe you can tell me?” She smiled and guided him back to the stairs.

“John!”

It was Donna again. The Doctor visibly cringed, head ducking, as he turned towards her call. Rose rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh.

“What is it this time?” He looked up as though checking for mistletoe.

Donna careened up to them, and then folded her arms, eyebrows raised. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Er… was about to show her the telescope, and let her make herself at home upstairs.”

“Oh! Is that all? In that case, please do carry on.” Donna gestured towards the staircase with a flourish.

The Doctor nodded, though gave her a funny look. “I… planned on it.”

Donna hadn’t budged. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head, waiting. “Go on then, both of you. I’d quite like to see this play out.”

Rose bit her lip to hide a smile, catching on to Donna’s implications.

The Doctor put his foot on the first step as he looked between the two women. “What?”

“Oh, just going to watch as my brother heads upstairs to his bedroom with a young woman in front of all of his coworkers.”

“I just hired her as my assistant, and she hasn’t a place to stay. Anyway, she’ll need to know how to work the telescope and other instruments, so it’s—oh.” His face turned the colour of the Christmas ribbon wrapped around the bannister. “Oh, dear. This is more inappropriate than I originally thought.” He turned to Rose. “I’m terribly sorry, Lady Rose—”

“Just Rose.”

“Rose.” He smiled around her name.

“You could come up with us?” Rose said to Donna with a shrug.

Donna adjusted her shawl, her face screwing up as she contemplated the offer.

“There he is. John!” Someone called from the crowd, his accent decidedly American.

“Oh, not again…” Rose sighed. She had a mind to go off on her own if this kept up.

The Doctor and Donna both turned towards the voice with complete opposite expressions—the Doctor, with one of mounting annoyance, and Donna, with one of rapt interest.

Intrigued, Rose glanced along with them to see a handsome man with dark hair and a fit physique (filling out his military uniform quite nicely) heading their way.

“Hello, Jack,” John said as the man drew near.

“Merry Christmas, Johnny boy!”

“Don’t-don’t call me that. I told you.” Despite his aggravation, he gave a sideways smile.

“Sorry, professor.” He grinned and shook the Doctor’s hand, he then caught sight of Rose. “Oh, pardon me, my lady, who might you be?” Jack smiled at Rose, reaching for her hand.

Rose smiled back, lifting her hand for him to take. “Rose Tyler.”

“Enchanté,” he said as he placed a kiss on the backs of her fingers. “Captain Jack Harkness of the University Officers’ Training Corps.” He winked.

“She’s mine—er, my assistant,” said John, turning a few more shades of red. “I, ehm, just hired her, and was about to, ah…”

“Hello, Captain,” said Donna, her smile straining after she’d gone unnoticed.

“Oh, Lady Donna. Always a pleasure,” Jack said, kissing her hand. He then turned back to the Doctor. “John, come over here, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Pardon us, ladies.” He flashed a smile at Donna and Rose, as he ushered a rather bemused Doctor back towards the tables.

Rose peered around the couples dancing to see where Jack had taken him, but Donna came to stand in front of her, blocking her view entirely.

“It’s probably a good idea for you to head home. My brother’s as harmless as a gnat, but this lot’s a bunch of ruddy gossipmongers.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I don’t really have a way home.”

"I can find a ride for you. Why don’t you return when classes resume? He won’t need you till then.”

Rose shook her head. “I came a very long way. I’ve nowhere else to go, so, yeah. Thanks for looking out, but I think I’ll be fine.”

“He told you to meet him here tonight? Hired you on the spot? That’s a bit thick, even for him.” Donna squinted at her, scrutinizing, but rightly so. It was rather odd timing.

Rose swayed with a wave of vertigo, and shook her head to clear her vision. She blinked and reached out for the bannister to steady herself. “Um, yeah, I think so.”

“You  _think_  so? Sorry, don’t mean to pry. S’just a bit weird.” Donna tilted her head, her scrutiny shifting to concern. “Oi, you all right?”

Rose blinked hard and looked around to get her bearings. A blast of cool air hit her as a small group of people went through the door, leaving for the evening. She shivered and refocused on Donna. “I, ah, just need—”

“Sorry about that,” the Doctor said as he found his way back over to Rose and Donna. “Jack wanted me to meet his, ehm... friend. Ianto! Nice bloke.” His smile faded as he took in Rose’s condition. “Everything all right?”

Donna waved her hand. “Oh, just getting to know your assistant here.” She looked back to Rose. “You cold, love? Where’s your coat?”

“It’s, ah, oh. I don’t think I have one.”

The Doctor’s face shifted to one of deep concern, and he began to take off his jacket. “Here, you should take this.”

“Hang on, Romeo.” Donna stilled his hand and guided him a few steps away, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Did you ask her to meet you here tonight?”

He looked over to Rose. “Not specifically, why?”

“She seems to think so. Where’d she come from, anyway? Stacy said she saw her upstairs chatting with the headmaster.”

“Donna, please. Now’s not a good time to discuss this—if you want to come with us, that’s fine, but just stop pressuring her for now.  _Please_.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, fine. I’ll come up to your bloody hidey-hole.”

Rose stared at the Christmas tree, hearing every word. They were rather rubbish at whispering. She closed her eyes and attempted to tune them out, letting their voices meld into the rest of the noise of the party. Donna’s questions played over in her mind, and every time she tried to think of how she got there, the memory swam away like a fish wriggling from her grasp.

Even her recollection of where she’d been just before descending the stairs to join the party was just…gone. Panic crept in, sending cold tendrils up her spine and making her heart beat faster. She brought her hand to her forehead, rubbing between her eyes. Had she hit her head? Certainly didn’t drink anything peculiar.

A gentle hand on her shoulder pulled her back to the present.

“Rose, still want to see the stars?” His tone was gentle, hopeful.

She nodded, taking a breath. “’Course I do.”

He studied her a moment, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Then come along. We’ll go another way. Donna’s going to join us to help you settle in.”

The Doctor led them away from the stairs and towards a back hall, where they took an alternative route to the attic. Once they arrived, Rose felt much more at ease, letting the cool quiet settle her nerves as they ascended the stairs. The landing above was cozy, yet drafty, and she had the distinct sensation that she’d been there before.

Donna plopped on an old wingback chair as though she’d done the same countless times before, and grabbed an issue of  _The Spectator_ from the small table nearby. She flipped the pages, sighing.

Rose became instantly transfixed by the blue wardrobe beside the telescope, which the Doctor was currently fussing with. He propped open a ceiling hatch, flooding the attic in freezing cold air. She rubbed her arms and drifted towards the blue box, déjà vu stronger than ever. Soon after, there was a slap of wood against wood, and the cold ebbed.

“Rose,” said the Doctor, coming to stand before her. “You look a bit disorientated.”

“This wardrobe… where have I seen it before?” She flinched as a memory of being inside of it flashed in her mind—a tight space, strange levers, and a glowing column of glass. The ticking of a clock.

The room spun and she put her hand out to steady herself.

The Doctor grasped her hand and put another on her arm, helping her remain upright. “Come and have a seat, I think I know what’s going on.” He guided her over to the chair where Donna was currently sitting.

Donna stood at their approach, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, discarding the magazine on the desk along the way.

Rose sat down in the wingback chair, rubbing the threadbare fabric on its arms. The Doctor rubbed his hands together, breathing through his nose as though to quell excitement. He could barely contain a grin as he grabbed a newspaper and pulled over his desk chair to sit before her. He offered the paper to her, and she took it, eyebrow arched.

He swallowed. “Look at the date.”

She did. “December twentieth, nineteen twelve.”

He scooted closer, and put up his hands. She could see they were trembling. “Right. I’m going to try something—a little theory of mine. If it doesn’t work, then… well. It was very lovely to meet you, Rose.”

Rose furrowed her brow and sat back. “What?”

“Focus on that date, the reality of it. You truly  _are_ here.”

“Of course she is,” Donna said.

“Shh, don’t interrupt.”

“All right. But you’re both barmy.”

Ignoring her, the Doctor continued. “Rose, you’re from another time, aren’t you?” He reached for her hand and clasped it gently between his. “You’re from another time, but you are here now. Do you feel my touch? I’m solid. I’m real—this isn’t a dream. Now, look into my eyes and tell me where you’re from.”

Rose blinked, staring at the newspaper, knowing it somehow didn’t match up with the date in her mind. A strange tug in her belly made her shut her eyes, but she forced them open as his thumb brushed along the back of her hand. He was gazing at her intently, a hint of wonder in his eyes.

“T-two thousand. Two thousand six. No, seven.”

“Blimey.” The Doctor squeezed her hand, a smile breaking on his face. “You came through my time machine, didn’t you? Just look at me when you answer, focus on my voice.”

Rose nodded, the memory of it slowly unfolding. His voice melted through her, and she felt as though she only existed where their hands and eyes were connected. She licked her lips, heart fluttering in her chest.

“Yeah, I used a—a watch. Pocket watch. It’s in my bag, I can show—”

“Not yet. You see, you’re not properly conditioned for time travel, so your mind is trying to pull you back to your original time. Any reminder of it brings on a fit of confusion, yes?”

Rose gave a nod.

“Right. I’m going to try to gently bridge the two realities, so that your memory of 2007 can coexist with the reality of 1912.” He was still smiling, crinkles fanning from the corners of his eyes. There was an excitement just brimming under the surface, barely contained. He reached for her other hand, and leaned a little closer.

“You likely told yourself a story to immerse you in this time, yes?”

“My mother is ill and I came here for work, was told to find you.”

“That’s the one. Now, visualize your mother for me. Keep your eyes open. It’s important that you see me. Tell me of her.”

“Okay.” She concentrated for a moment, and when the vision of her mother came to life in her mind, she made a face. “Looks a bit odd. Wearing trousers and has her hair in a terribly plain style. We’re poor, so, perhaps… wait. She’s looking at a box with moving pictures. A television, it's called.”

The Doctor squeezed her hands. “That’s your mum from 2007. Did she tell you to come and find me?”

“I don’t think so…” Her eyes widened as more and more memories of her mother emerged in her mind. “Oh—I’m beginning to remember! She sent me a care package…”

The Doctor went on to guide her through reawakening other memories from her time-of-origin, all the while he kept reminding her of where she was now, his voice like a lighthouse guiding her in from the sea. Eventually, she could recall everything about her former time—that she’d been at uni struggling through a business degree she realized too late was not the right path for her. Her passion for art discouraged by people who loved her, who thought they knew what was best. Her mum remarrying a man who promised more stability. She remembered her friends—Mickey and Shareen—who’d been so difficult to keep up with at uni, a place they’d never be able to go. She once assumed she’d be right there with them, but then Pete came along with his fortunes and his promises for a stable career.

She’d been so aimless, so unsure of who she wanted to become, that she decided to grasp the only rope slung down for her. The higher she climbed, however, the more she realized it was not what she wanted. Eventually she stopped painting. Stopped sketching. She’d buy new things and draw a bit, but her skill had fallen short as time went on.

And then the woman with the watch entered her life, and it was like a new rope had been lowered for her to grasp, one with the Doctor on the other end. When she brought up the woman with the pocket watch, however, he cut her short.

“I think it’s best if we stop here. I don’t want to know my future.”

“Oh, right. 'Course.”

“Now you are yourself, only back in time. No fiction, no dying mother in need of medication. Just the reality of Rose Tyler, a pioneer of time travel. Whoever told you to find me, I must be sure to thank them someday. I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay in 1912, though I’m afraid you’re rather trapped here. I’m not sure how to send you back, though I have theories. If they prove to be correct—just as I was right about how the mind acclimates to time travel, then it would require a physical anachronism. Something from your time.”

Rose remembered the coin. “I do have something, but…”

“Yes?” His smile faded a little.

“I’d like to stay a bit longer.”

His smile returned, brighter than ever. “Me too. That is, I’d like you to stay. As long as you wish.”

They gazed at one another in silence, hands still joined.

“Funny sort of thing for a man who basically invented time travel,” said Donna. “Not wanting to know your future.”

The Doctor flinched, releasing Rose’s hands. “Donna! Forgot you were here, but it’s nice to see you finally acknowledge that I’ve been successful.”

“If by successful, you mean pretty women from the future are going to start coming out of your wardrobe on a regular basis, then yes.” She laughed. “Oh, don’t tell me. Has this all been a scheme to find the perfect woman? No one from this time will do. Makes perfect sense, now that I think of it.”

“Donna, don’t be daft. I didn’t plan this. Up till now, I’ve only managed to send a thimble through time. I must make some incredible breakthroughs later. Well, of course I do. I’m a genius.”

“You’re something,” Donna said with a smile and not a hint of derision.

The Doctor clapped as he stood, and began to pace, winding his fingers through his hair, mussing it up rather adorably. He rambled on to himself, pinning together his ideas on the canvas of his mind, and then dove for his desk, pulling out a drawer. Inside was a field journal—the one Rose remembered from the future—and he withdrew it, flipping to a specific page.

“Sorry, just let me get this down.”

Grabbing a pen, he began to scratch feverishly on the page. Notes and equations spilling from his mind that meant very little to her, but brought a rather manic gleam to his eye. This was clearly his element, and she couldn’t help but find it endearing. She’d never been one to fancy the nerdy ones, but something about him…

“Rose, you said you used a pocket watch, yes?”

“Yes.”

He began to pace again after setting down his pen. “That’s fascinating. Where—no, don’t tell me. It needs to happen just as it did, otherwise you wouldn’t’ve been brought here.” He stopped pacing and rubbed his face, and then tugged at his ear. “Must’ve been a rather unique pocket watch. I wonder…” He waved his hands around. “Nope. Not another word.”

Rose stood, smoothing out her dress. “Right. Lips are sealed.” She grinned.

His eyes swept over her for the faintest moment before he turned away, heading for the telescope.

She followed him and fidgeted with her earring. “So, was there ever an ad? Did you just know to play along with my story?”

“Not exactly. Once it became clear to me that I had indeed heard something in my time machine, and it had indeed been you—and you’d displayed a bit of confusion and vertigo upon being questioned—I figured it’d be best. There’ve been a few studies, mostly posited by myself, that show hypnosis may play a large role in preparing the mind for time travel. At least until a time machine could essentially play that role for you, and alas my prototype is not yet capable of such a thing.”

“Someday, yeah?” Rose smiled, tucking a strand of loose hair that kept slipping free of the comb being her ear.

His eyes lit up and he nodded. “Yes.”

“So, she hasn’t a place to stay,” Donna said. “And don’t say she can stay up here—you really didn’t think that one through. It’s drafty as an arctic hut and about as welcoming.”

“I dunno, I rather like it.” Rose smiled, looking up at the rafters.

The Doctor smiled at her as he responded to Donna. “No, I suppose she hasn’t, but for tonight she can sleep here and I’ll take the settee in my office.”

Rose waved. “Oi, you could include me on the decision seeing as how I’m right here.”

The Doctor gave an apologetic cringe. “Sorry, Rose—of course. Um…”

“We’ll sort it later. Weren’t you going to show me the stars?”

A warm smile spread across his face. “Why, yes, Rose Tyler.” He reached out his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Care to watch the stars alight in advance of the winter solstice?”

“I’d love to.” She took his hand and he led her over to the telescope.

Donna stood and began rummaging through the pile of magazines. “This is where I’ll see myself out of the conversation.”

The Doctor turned a crank on the wall and propped open the ceiling hatch, letting in a blast of cold air. He glanced over at Rose, saw her shiver, and then practically leapt across the room to grab his long coat from the hat stand.

“Sorry.” He draped it about her shoulders.

She closed her eyes as his smell enveloped her, and took in a deep inhale. His footsteps moved away again, and she opened her eyes, quickly averting them and clearing her throat. God, if they’d noticed how she breathed him in—

“Of course, the winter solstice isn’t for another day, but the sky is quite clear tonight.” He checked the through the eyepiece. “Come, look.”

She stepped forward and leaned, peering through the eyepiece. There in a cradle of dark sky were a bundle of stars swathed in a faint, rusty glow. Beyond them, there were lots of tiny ones, hundreds more, just within the small diameter of the eyepiece.

“S’beautiful.” Her voice was soft, and she wondered how she could ever have thought that the seminar on outer space could’ve put her to sleep.

“You can see more stars than with the naked eye.”

“Mm. Can I move it around?”

“Sure, like this.” He tapped where she would need to hold it so she could gently swivel the tube and adjust aperture, and she placed her hand there, but whatever he said next might as well have been in a foreign language for as much as she paid attention.

He was so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, but he was very careful not to come into contact with her except for chaste touches on her hands and wrists to guide her in using the telescope. It drove her mad. Suddenly, the very last thing she wanted him to be was careful. She lost track of his instruction as she envisioned him leaning in and brushing the hair from her neck, his lips would then find her ear, where his breath would tickle her throat and his voice would make her meld back against him.

And then he stepped away, cold air settling between them, and her cheeks were burning from her thoughts. She swallowed and attempted to adjust and look through the scope again, but saw nothing but her own eyelashes.

“So, you’d, ehm, rather pursue the arts than business?”

Rose nodded, taking a calming breath.

He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Can’t say I blame you, rather fond of it myself. Dabble a bit…Though, I’m afraid while there’s a great respect for a master’s work these days, there’s far less of it for the aspiring artist. Doesn’t sound too different from your time.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, glad to not have to pretend as though she’d followed his instructions. His gaze was sincere, heavy with empathy, and she wanted to— “Yeah.”

“You’re lucky to live in a time when women can choose to study business at the university level, but to have your passion discouraged like that must’ve been heartbreaking.”

“Um, yeah. But they were right, though. S’not much I can do for myself in art.”

“Is that what they told you?”

Rose licked her lips and stared at her feet. Yes, that’s exactly what they had told her, but not in so many words. She’d heard compliments and encouragement all of her life, until it was time to make the harder choices. Then, her art became a nuisance, a thing she needed to set aside for more realistic goals. There was laundry to fold or a shift to cover at Henrik’s. Her mum would nag her about leaving her sketchpad on the table, or they’d row over an irresponsible art supply purchase that meant they couldn't afford half of their groceries.

And then her mum had met Pete. Stable, financially secure Pete, who had offered Rose the perfect career if she'd finish uni. So practical, so safe. How could she turn it down?

Sometimes, though, she just wanted to fill a canvas with her love and her pain. She wanted to sketch idly to soothe her harried mind, but there was scarcely time for that anymore. Her heart began to ache as she thought of it, how jealous she’d become over finding out that one of her classmates was a digital artist with her own website and everything. That could’ve been her, she could’ve done both, but at some point the world had convinced her that she needed to choose. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, and she just shook her head, knowing she’d been quiet too long.

“We can talk about it another time," the Doctor said softly.

Rose just nodded, wishing he would stand closer to her again so she didn’t have to think of it anymore.

“Anyway, I do need an assistant. That much was true.” He sniffed and pulled the ceiling hatch closed. “Offer still stands, if you want. You’d help keep my lesson notes organised, perhaps help with a bit of research. I know it’s not artistic, per se, but I’ll see if I can find some things for you. Paper and pastels, charcoal, whatever you need.”

Rose stared at him, his offer tempting, but thinking of her mum, of her responsibilities back in her time brought a wave of guilt over just abandoning them on a whim as she had done. She took a deep breath.

“Thanks, but… I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, and I’d hate to start work and then have to pop off to 2007. Finding a place to stay is imposing enough, yeah?”

As the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She’d come here with a purpose, a promise to fulfill. But who was more important? Either way, she felt pulled by others to satisfy someone else’s wishes  _for_ her.

“Very well, understood.” The Doctor nodded, his jaw set, creating a deep dimple in his cheek.

The ensuing silence was deafening. Rose reached for her coin purse, busying herself with the embroidered pattern on its side.

“Of course… there will be travel opportunities between quarters, and I’d need your help with those. We’d go all over. To other universities, out to the field and make discoveries. You could illustrate our travels.” He shrugged, bottom lip poking out as he kept his gaze averted, but she knew he was doing it on purpose. Sweetening the deal. He wanted her to stay, and that turned her stomach into a flurry of butterflies.

She grinned, tongue at her teeth. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Brilliant! Oh, Rose Tyler—” He spread his arms as if to pull her into an embrace, but as his eyes lowered to her mouth, something shifted in his gaze and he quickly diverted the hug to a handshake.

Rose shook his hand, holding back a massive pout. What was that about? Had she misunderstood his signals? Was it some kind of social faux pas of the era? She let her hand linger in his, felt his fingertips brush the soft lace of her glove against her skin, making her shiver.

Donna sighed noisily, drawing attention to herself. “All right! All right… here’s what’s gonna happen.” She slapped the magazine she’d been reading on the table and stood. “Rose, love, you are going to come and stay with me. I don’t quite have the space for it, just renting a small room in an apartment up the road, but I’d rather you not sleep up here in this  _attic_ for God’s sake.”

Rose turned to Donna, a mixture of disappointment and thankfulness making a rather odd cocktail in her stomach. “Oh—wow. Thank you, Donna. Really.”

The Doctor had a bit of a frown as well as he looked from Donna to Rose and back. “Er, yes. That’s-that’s far more suitable.”

Donna looked between them. "You two are something else. I'm leaving now, so you two will have to canoodle another time."

“What?” The Doctor looked incredulous and dropped Rose’s hand. “We weren’t—”

“S’all right, Doctor.”

Donna clicked her tongue. “I’ll never get used to that silly nickname.”

They left the attic, and headed down to a side exit, hoping to further avoid the gathering on the foyer. They stepped outside to the crisp, winter night, Rose still bundled in the Doctor's coat. Their breath drifted on the air, and Rose looked up to the evening sky, seeking the cluster of stars she’d viewed through the telescope.

“Meet me here tomorrow,” the Doctor said, coming to stand next to her. “Please? Once you settle, of course. I’d love to get you on the books, and show you my laboratory and the lecture hall. Maybe we can have tea as well?”

Rose looked back to see that Donna was just out of earshot, adjusting her coat and hat. She smiled up at him. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He smiled. “Fantastic.”

Donna joined them then. “All right, let’s get on with it. I’m knackered.”

The Doctor reached for Rose’s hand and placed a lingering kiss on the back of it. “It was so lovely to meet you, Rose.”

“You too, Doctor.”

She then went along with Donna down the pavement, tossing a smile at him over her shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Kilodalton  
> Britpick: Lauraxxtennant  
> All mistakes are mine.

_21st December, 1912_

Rose awoke the following morning to the sound of Donna washing up in the kitchen downstairs. Groaning, she stretched, making the old bed springs whinge and the frame creak. Her whole body ached, and she shivered from a draft by the window. The bed itself was  _terrible_. Uneven and musty with springs poking her back throughout the night. She forced herself to sit up, pull on a threadbare robe, and plod across the short distance to the bedroom door.

The Doctor’s coat, that he’d let her borrow the evening before, hung on a hook by the door. She stroked it absently as she slipped out of the room.

Downstairs, Donna had set out toast and prepared a kettle of tea. She sat at the small table, munching on a biscuit as she read the paper. They exchanged a morning greeting, and Rose’s stomach growled as she eyed the toast. But she had another priority that filled her with absolute dread.

“Just gonna, um, pop into the loo,” Rose said with an awkward smile, and shuffled past Donna to the door that lead to a tiny patio in the back.

A blast of winter air swept up her night clothes and made her shudder. She wrapped her arms around herself and lept the few steps over to the dreaded outdoor loo. Once inside, the relief from direct chill was short lived as she couldn’t very well see what sort of insect or web she might be touching. This was not an aspect of time travel she anticipated, and as she sat on the ice cold seat, she closed her eyes and imagined she was back at home.

She finished up and returned to the kitchen, where she washed her hands and poured herself a mug of tea.

“S’a bit cold, isn’t it? Literally freeze my bum off out there.” She eyed her tea, second guessing anything that might make her have to go again so soon.

“You’ll get used to it,” Donna said, setting aside the papers.

Rose laughed “Not so sure about that. Thanks, though, for letting me crash here.”

“Crash?” Donna made a face, and then shrugged it off. “It’s nothing. John used to have that room, but he spent so much time at the uni that he decided to move out. The owners’ve been rotating through tenants ever since. Lucky my current housemate is on holiday.”

“Ah, that’s… I’ll pay rent as soon as I can, then.” Rose leaned against the counter and sipped her tea pensively, not really imagining herself here too much longer. If she could just understand why she’d been sent here—meeting the Doctor couldn’t be all there was to it—she’d get it all sorted and head back to 2007. The thought of spending another night here, of using that horrible outhouse…

But then there was an odd sort of flip in her stomach at the news that she’d slept in a bed where the Doctor had slept, however long ago it might’ve been. She took another sip of tea to hide the quirk in her lips.

“I’m heading out in a bit for a couple of interviews. There’s a factory job up the street, and another at a law firm—administrative.”

“Ah.” Rose finally sat at the table across from Donna, cradling the mug in her hands as the warm steam wafted under her nose. “Didn’t know you were looking for work—why don’t you work with the Doct—with John, since he needs help?”

“Oh, god. Could you imagine? Me, blundering around in a lab with all sorts of important scientific equipment? I’m not sure if that life’s cut out for me.”

“I’ve only worked in a shop; not much more suited myself.”

Donna smiled. “He’s seen something in you that says otherwise.” She offered Rose a piece of toast, and Rose took it gladly.

“Thanks. I’m sure he’s seen something in you, too.”

“Nah, I’m nothing special. I don’t know, maybe sometime I’d like to see what it’s like to travel. His mouth won’t stop though, and I can get a bit loud when I’m bored. Anyway, I’ll take you to the university on my way out. Still want to hang ‘round my ridiculous brother, then?”

“Yeah, I’ll just, um… what do I wear? Didn’t exactly pack a bag.”

“I’ll let you borrow one of my frocks. Might be a bit big on you, though. We can pin the waist in.” She looked Rose over. “And the bust.”

Rose snorted, and finished off her tea. “That’s fine, I’d appreciate it.”

Once they finished breakfast and got dressed, Rose and Donna set out for the university. It took a lot of willpower—a lot—to simply drape the Doctor’s coat over her arm and not nestle inside of it as she had the night before. But, Donna had also lent her a frock coat, and she didn’t want it to be too obvious that she fancied him.

They walked a couple streets to the main road, where Rose was further immersed in the trappings of early twentieth century London. The pavement was bursting with people on their way to work, or the shops, or wherever, in suits and long dresses. A few old model cars swerved around horse-drawn carriages through the busy streets. Wreaths with proud, red bows perched atop every lamppost, and shop windows were dressed for Christmas. Rose smiled at the sight of it, like stepping onto a movie set. Maybe it wasn’t so bad here after all.

They took a trolleybus slathered in old-lettered advertisements for soap and cigarettes through the chaotic intersection, narrowly missing collisions with several pedestrians, automobiles, and carriages along the way. Through it all, Rose couldn’t stop grinning—boys selling newspapers! Ladies with wide-brimmed hats! Donna insisted that she’d gone bonkers.

When they arrived at the university campus, the Doctor was waiting on the steps that led to McCrimmon Hall. He tucked the book he’d been reading under his arm, and rushed over to them in a cloud of frozen breath.

“Rose!” He said, smiling.

Rose grinned as she reached him and his adorable rosy cheeks. “Made it. Thought I wouldn’t there for a bit.”

The Doctor laughed. “Yes, it gets a bit mad out there with the automobiles taking over.”

“That never changes.” She couldn’t stop smiling. Their eyes locked and she lost track of what she wanted to say next. Her fingers absently stroked the collar of his coat that was still draped over her arm, and that jolted her to her senses.

“Oh!” She held out his coat. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

He took it gingerly and slid it on, not hiding his sigh of relief at its welcome warmth in the slightest. “Ah, thank you, thank you. I see you’ve got your own now, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, um, Donna let me borrow some of her stuff.”

“Speaking of Donna,” Donna says, “I’ll be off. Have to make it over to Darrent street by half nine.”

“Oh, sorry. Hullo, Donna!” The Doctor smiled and waved at her.

Donna rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, John. Rose. See you later.” With that, Donna departed, and the Doctor and Rose stood alone for a quiet moment in the brick courtyard.

“Let’s get you inside to warm up. I’ll show you ‘round a bit, then we can go for tea?”

“Sounds lovely.” Rose finally managed a shiver as though she was only made aware that she was cold because he’d pointed it out.

They headed up the stairs and entered the building foyer—which was cleared of evidence of the previous night’s revelry. They walked past the Christmas tree and to an office where Rose gave her information—name, address, experience, and a few other details that had been part of her previous origin story—to the personnel secretary.

The Doctor pulled the office door shut behind him once they’d exited. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

“In the future, they’d know I made everything up in an instant,” she whispered as they walked away.

“Good thing you’re here and not there.”

“Yeah.” She smiled.

Nervous energy still sizzled through her. She couldn’t believe she said she lived at the Powell Estate—it didn’t even exist yet! But as he fell in place beside her, his gob running faster than she could piece together what he was saying, the anxious feeling gradually ebbed.

He gestured to portraits, artwork, and architectural elements along the way, telling enchanting stories of each one, as they headed down the hall towards his office. After a time, Rose couldn’t be sure if the things themselves were interesting at all, or if she’d just began to feed off of the wonder in his voice. He could turn a taper candle into a genie’s lamp with his words alone.

At last they reached his office, which was adjacent to a lecture hall and a laboratory. He waltzed in and stood before a small desk off to the side.

“This’ll be your desk.”

“I’ll be in here with you?” Rose’s eyebrows went up at that. She scanned the room, taking in the overflowing bookshelves, the maps on the walls, and instruments of science scattered throughout.

“Yes. Er—if that’s all right.”

“Oh, ‘course.” She smiled at him over her shoulder as she reached out to spin an antique (well, contemporary in this case) globe.

“Brilliant!” He watched her spin the globe a couple of revolutions, and then clapped suddenly. “Well! You can get settled in another time. Come—I’ve my very own lecture hall.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, as he swooped out of the room.

Rose followed him through the door and into a stadium-style lecture room embellished in dark, lacquered wood. There was a large podium down below, and a blackboard covered in equations stretched from one wall to the other.

“Still looks like this in my day. Podium and everything.”

“Really?”

Rose nodded, and brushed her fingertips along a seatback nearby. “In the older buildings, yeah. So this is where you teach?”

“Yeah. Try to, anyway.”

“I bet they love you. Um, to listen—love to listen to… uh, your lectures.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows crept up his forehead and he rocked back on his heels. “Some might. Think others just want to sleep.”

“Could I sit in sometime?”

“Er… likely not. Sorry.” He turned away from her and fussed with his hair a bit. “Right! Let’s pop into the lab, and then there’s more to see outside. Allons-y!” He cruised out of the room, footsteps and voice echoing.

Rose stared at the spot where he’d been standing, dumbfounded. “O-kay…” She trailed behind him, wondering what that was all about, and found that she couldn’t quite pay much attention to whatever he said about the lab itself. Did he not want her to sit in on one of his lectures? Was it against some arbitrary rule? Maybe he thought she wouldn’t understand it. She frowned slightly at the thought.

He spent a lot of time talking about an experiment he had going on in a corner, and she shoved aside the bothersome thoughts so she could pay attention. Because he seemed to really want to show her what he was doing. Something with crystals. He had this face—this hopeful, boyish glint in his eyes as he waited for her reaction, and she couldn’t very well ignore  _that_.

“You can grow crystals in a lab?” she asked, feeling stupid. Playing right into one of her worries.

That must have been the correct response, however, because he was rather pleased to take that question and run. Showing her various crystal formations he’d been studying—some which had originated in meteorites—until he caught her hiding a yawn behind her hand.

“Sorry. Sometimes I get a bit carried away,” he said.

“No! S’fine; you’re interesting, I promise. I just didn’t get very much sleep.”

“Ah. It’s that grotty old mattress, isn’t it? Always hated that thing.”

Rose blinked and averted her eyes, knowing it looked like she fluttered her eyelashes at him, but she began to think about him lying in the bed, and then in the bed with her, and he was kind of gazing at her in wonder, and oh god just start talking again! About crystals, about seventeenth century architecture, _anything_!

“Er…this way, Rose. I’ll show you around campus.”

_Phew._

They made their way back downstairs and out into the courtyard where they ran into a couple of the Doctor’s professor friends—Ian Chesterson and Barbara Wright. He introduced her to them, and they exchanged a brief conversation about her position as his new assistant, and what they might be doing for the brief Christmas break, and other things that Rose tuned out, because she’d honed in on one little detail. One little, very important detail.

The Doctor was not doing  _anything_  for Christmas. ‘ _Per usual._ _’_

“Cheers, John!” said Professor Chesterson. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Tyler. Happy Christmas!”

Rose smiled. “Happy Christmas.”

“You’re always welcome to join us on Christmas Eve, you know,” Professor Wright offered as they began to depart.

The Doctor waved his hand at them as though swatting away the invitation. “Thanks, but, you know. Not my thing—that domestic stuff.”

Once the pair of professors had walked out of earshot. Rose peered up at the Doctor.

“You’re not even going to come to Donna’s place for Christmas?”

“Erm, I might pop in at some point over the break, but we don’t typically do anything together. She has her friends, and they’ll go out for nog at some pub or another.” The Doctor said as he began to walk towards a statue just off the courtyard proper, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

Rose kept up with his brisk pace. “You should come over this year. Maybe I’ll cook? I could decorate it and everything! Oh, you should bring your old-timey record player—or whatever you call it here. Play some Christmas music, open a few crackers… d’you have those?”

The Doctor glanced at her, a hint of intrigue in his eyes, but it vanished as soon as he thrust a finger up into the air in the general direction of the statue nearby. “Statue! This was dedicated to McCrimmon Hall in the year sixteen twenty-three, and depicts the hall’s namesake, James McCrimmon, here in a tartan—rather young for a founder, don’t you reckon?”

Rose sighed at his obvious evasion, giving the statue a brief once-over. She decided to let it go for now, but in her mind the seed of that idea was beginning to sprout.

“Come on, Doctor, I know you’re not going to give me the typical rising undergrad tour, are you? I’ve seen this statue dozens of times already.”

The Doctor’s hand drifted behind his head to scratch his neck, and he pulled a face. “Dozens? No, that would be…” His eyes darted across the courtyard to an alcove between two buildings. “This way!” He grabbed her hand and took off.

Rose was caught off guard, but managed not to stumble as she fell right into step with him. She had to hold up the hem of her dress with one hand, and hope that her shoes didn’t fly off of her feet, as they rushed into the alcove.

Inside was a small walkway that led between the buildings, and a stone bench built into the façade. He sat down on the bench and she sat next to him.

“This is where I come to read sometimes. There’s a stretch of daylight that shines right into this alley, makes it bright and warm. You know who else would come and have a sit here?” His grin returned. “Edmund Halley.”

“O-oh?” The name was somewhat familiar, but she was far more inclined to notice the proximity of the outer edge of his hand to hers, and the rhythm of his leg as he tapped his foot.

“You know, the fellow who predicted the return of Halley’s Comet?” His leg stilled as he looked at her. He licked his lips and redirected his gaze across the alley to an iron-barred basement window.

“Right! Yes, I’ve heard of that. Just missed seeing it last time ‘round.”

“Oh?” His head tilted, looking back at her. “When will that be?”

“It was, uhm, it came by in 1986. Was born a year later.”

He shifted a little in his seat and swallowed. “Er… Just missed it here too, then, I’m afraid. Twentieth of April, 1910.” He stood abruptly. “Shall we continue?”

Rose squinted at him, confused, and he quickly stuck out his hand to help her up.

“Forgive me,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, no, I—um…don’t have to do this with me.” She took his hand anyway, because it was  _his_ hand. “Was just rather, you know, sudden change of topic.”

He made no comment as he helped her rise, and then let go of her hand to shove his into his pocket. “I want to show you the library next. It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s worth it.”

“Perfect.” She smiled up at him as they began to walk.

His eyes lingered on her smile before he turned away to look straight ahead. “’Course there’s a library in McCrimmon, but this is the oldest continuously running research library on campus—in Britain!—, where I’m taking you. First established in 1602. They’re about to reach a collection of  _one million_  texts—imagine!”

Rose tucked her hands into her overcoat pockets. The silly dainty gloves were nothing against the bite of cold. “I bet I know where we’re going.”

 “No, you musn’t.”

“’Fraid so. The old G! Has to be.”

He made a face like she’d just said the most offensive word in the English language. “… _PardonI_? There is no such—”

“The Gallifrey Library, with the old, round, knob thingies all over the doors, yeah?”

He sputtered. “But, that’s—now hear. You mentioned before that my lecture hall looks much the same in your time. You said you’ve seen the statue of McCrimmon  _dozens_ of times, and now you know entirely too much about the physical appearance of the very doors of the Gallifrey library—are you….” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you a student?”

Rose felt her cheeks burst into flame and she looked away from him. But, wait—

“You  _know_  I’m a student already. I told you everything about that.”

“Yes, but, you hadn’t mentioned that you’re a student  _here._ ”

“I thought that would be obvious. I mean, I don’t take classes at McCrimmon, but still. And it’s in the future, so?”

“There are a plethora of universities in Britain, maybe even more in a near century from now—how should I?” He ran his hand roughly through his hair without regard for what it looked like when he was done. (It looked like a hot mess—still attractive, though).

“Is it gonna be a problem?” Rose stopped walking, her irritation now rising, and not even his adorably mussed hair could abate it.

He stopped and took a calming breath, before turning around to face her again. “No, not at all. Not for this, not for your employment here. Forget I reacted that way, all right? I was being a prat.”

Rose bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. ‘Kay.”

His chest rose and fell as he stared at her for a lingering moment. “Not too much farther—though you may know that already.” He turned and resumed walking. She heard him mutter something about  _if you still want to go_  under his breath.

Rose quickened her steps to catch up with him. “Oi, I still want you to show me, Doctor.”

“Do you? You’ve been there, after all.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“But not with you.”

His brisk steps slowed at that, and he smiled, the tension melting away from him as his eyes glinted at her in the winter sunlight. The rest of their walk was much more pleasant, as he resumed narration of the wonders they encountered along the way. Well, they were wonders when he was done with them. Before, they’d just been an odd arrangement of trees (the gravesite of an unknown woman buried almost two thousand years ago), an off-coloured stone in the foundation of a building (marks a spot on a map he’s been studying, but don’t tell anyone about that), or a pathway that lead into a bricked-over stairwell (an old entrance to a now unused corridor of the London Underground).

At last, they reached the library, which was… closed for the holidays. The Doctor groaned.

“I should’ve known. Bloody Christmas.”

Rose looked around. “There’s not another way in?”

The Doctor turned to her slowly, an odd look in his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

“Old things usually have secrets.” She gave a wry smile.

He looked up at the old theatre building next door and back to Rose. “Rose Tyler, you’re suggesting something rather dubious. Maybe we should just go and have our tea, hm?”

“I saw that glance. There is a way!” She laughed and did a little hop in place.  “Come on, show me?”

The Doctor’s serious expression broke apart as one of boyish excitement took over. “This way, my lady.” He held up his arm, and she looped hers through it a bit too readily.

They walked up to the theatre, which, to their absolute luck, was just about to start a holiday matinee performance. The Doctor ordered two tickets, and placed a couple of coins on the counter.

“Thank you. Hope you and your lovely wife have a Merry Christmas!”

“Er—yes.” He furrowed his brow.

She smiled at the blush creeping across his cheeks, and nestled closer to him when he didn’t bother to correct the ticket seller’s mistake.

The Doctor didn’t (wouldn’t?) look at her their entire walk through the theatre halls. In a way, she wanted to go ahead and watch the performance with him, but as he led them past their destination and into another hallway, looking around to ensure they hadn’t been seen, the excitement of adventure returned.

Unfortunately, it also came with him dropping her arm. “This way,” he whispered, and they hurried down the narrow hall and into a stairwell. They ended up in a storage basement, and he headed for a large, motley stack of stage props.

“Keep an ear out. There’s a hidden hatch on the floor back here somewhere. Just need to…” He pulled something from his pocket, which lit up as he aimed it at the floor.

Rose kept an eye on the hall, and grinned as she heard the tiny squeal of a hinge from behind the stack.

“Ladies first,” he said with a smile, twirling the odd little instrument in his hand, sending a beam of bluish light flitting about the dark room.

Rose hurried behind the stack of props and climbed down into it. The Doctor followed behind and closed the latch, bathing them in darkness—save for that little glow atop the stick.

“What’s that?”

“This? Oh—just a little invention of mine. I keep lock picking tools inside, and it has a light, and a screwdriver. And a pen! Simple, but quite useful.” He aimed the light ahead, illuminating an earthen tunnel with stonework along the base of each wall.

Rose smiled, walking slightly ahead of him. “How old is this tunnel?”

“Dunno exactly. It’s at least as old as the library. There are hundreds of tunnels like this all throughout London.”

“Imagine, people used this tunnel hundreds of years ago. S’like we’re walking with ghosts.”

“I’ve often felt that way myself,” the Doctor said, a smile in his voice.

They continued along in silence for a ways until Rose caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. She stopped and turned to see nothing but a wall of earth at her side.

“There any other passageways off of this tunnel?”

The Doctor stopped behind her. “No. Just a straight tunnel from point A to point B. We’re almost to point B, actually. Why?”

“I swear I just saw a light this way. Like a shimmer.” She put her hand out to feel the earth, which was warm to the touch. “You didn’t see it?”

“No, afraid not. Maybe it was my screwdriver.” He wiggled it around, making the shadows wobble.

She put her hand on another section of wall on the opposite side, and it was cold to the touch. “Huh…”

“What is it?” He placed his hand next to hers on the cold side.

“This side’s warm—that’s cold.”

The Doctor then reached out to touch the warm wall, but was stopped by an echoing  _click_  from up ahead in the direction of the library. He snuffed the light atop his screwdriver in an instant, and they were entombed in darkness. He grabbed her hand, and tugged. They raced back along the tunnel as quietly as possible. How they managed to make it the entire way without slamming into a wall was beyond her, but the Doctor seemed to know the way rather well. They reached the stairs and went up through the hatch into the theatre basement, and didn’t stop.

The Doctor peered around the corner to check the hall, and they walked briskly the rest of the way until they reached concession, where a crowd had gathered as the play was on intermission.

It wasn’t until they were outside again that they both collapsed against the nearest wall and laughed, high on adrenaline. Rose smiled up to the Doctor as he turned to face her, their hands still locked together.

“We should do that again sometime.”

The Doctor’s indecipherable expression dissolved as he smiled. “Oh, I like you.”

Rose bit her lip and looked down, her hair falling over her face.  His smile was turning her blood into lightning, and her legs into honey. Her heart was floating outside of her body, tethered to the place where their hands were joined. It’d been so long since a smile made her feel that way.

Much to her immense disappointment, however, he unlaced his hand from hers slowly, and took a step back, dusting off his suit and clearing his throat. “That is, I mean—I enjoy your company.”

Rose clenched her empty hand and nodded. “Yeah. S-same.”

She sighed, and whether he caught the frustration in that rush of breath, he didn’t comment. Every time she thought he might mean something more… with his words, with his glances… he’d yank the rug from under her feet and prove just the opposite. Or, maybe she was imagining things. Maybe he looked at everyone that way, and she was only seeing it as something more because that’s what she wanted. She was a new friend to him—an assistant. A student.

The silence that had fallen between them was growing more and more awkward, and was saved at the last moment by a group of carolers making their way up the pavement towards them. They managed to dodge them to the tune of  _Hark! The Herald Angels Sing_  and ended up right outside the very tea shop the Doctor had planned to take her all along.

“Still up for tea, miss Tyler?” he said, opening the door for her.

Rose smiled. “Only if you promise me we’re gonna talk about what happened in that tunnel. Can’t just carry on like it was nothing, yeah?”

The Doctor beamed. “It’s on the top of the list.”

They were seated, and were brought tea and a plate of biscuits. The Doctor put two lumps of sugar into his tea, and took a sip.

“I don’t know of many people who’d know about that tunnel,” he said, glancing thoughtfully out of the window.

“You know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“We have to go back.” She grinned and took a chocolate biscuit from the plate.

“As you wish. Another day, though, perhaps.”

“Yeah.”

They were mistaken for a married couple once again as the Doctor paid the bill.

_24th December, 1912_

Rose lit the last candle on the small kitchen table, and stood back to look around at her handiwork. The Doctor had lent her a few pounds so that she could purchase clothing and other necessities (which she promised to pay back once she began to earn a wage), and she just had to spend a little of it on a Christmas surprise.

She hadn’t gone too far. Well, she tried not to. Evergreen garlands adorned with ribbon (discarded as excess by a couple of shops around the corner) were strung up along the cabinets. The church up the road was cooking up a Christmas meal for the community, so she procured a mince pies, bread with drippings, and a dish of potatoes and onions. Earlier, she’d walked up to the corner store to buy a few other things—a premade plum pudding, crackers, and candles. She’d set the table with the mismatched dishes from the cabinets and kept the food warm in a big cookpot on the fireplace in the entrance room.

She might be in a completely different era, but Rose Tyler knew how to improvise. And, luckily, how to start a hearth fire.

Now she just had to wait. Donna would be off work soon (she got the factory job), and the Doctor—well, he insisted he was stopping by to drop off something he’d borrowed from Donna. She hoped he’d remember the gramophone, because one of the other items she’d found whilst rummaging through the closet in her temporary room was a vinyl of Christmas music.

She bit her lip, smoothed out the new sea green, glass beaded dress, and sighed. He was either going to love it, or hate it, and the odds made her stomach twist.

Donna arrived a few minutes later, flinging her bag and her frock coat on the settee.

“Bloody—what’s that smell? What the hell’s going on in here?”

Rose cringed, hearing her enter. Well, she didn’t sound angry so much as astounded, at least. She stepped out of the kitchen and waved her hands. “Er, surprise!”

Donna laughed. “You did this! Blimey, thought my housemate had come back from holiday at first, then I remembered she’s a lump.” She lifted the lid of the cookpot and inhaled. “Mmm. Can you stay forever?”

“Jury’s still out on that.”

“Well, I’m starving. Let’s—”

There was a knock at the door.

“Oh, I invited the Doct—uh, John.” Rose hurried to the door.

“You did  _what_?” Donna covered the food. “Oh, I’ve gotta see this.”

Rose answered the door, and sure enough, it was the Doctor bearing a large case.

“Rose—” He inhaled, beholding her with a sweep of his gaze.

“Oh! You brought it?” Rose smiled, offering to take the bulky, squarish case.

He relinquished the portable gramophone to her and closed the door as he stepped in. “You asked, so of course. Here, let’s set it up on this.” He helped her place it on a small writing desk near the door.

Rose’s heart was in her throat. He hadn’t once commented on the smell of food, or what little decoration in the kitchen that he might be able to see from where he stood. He busied himself with setting up the gramophone whilst greeting Donna, and once he had finished, he turned towards Rose again.

“I brought a few albums from my—all right, why does it smell like pie and Christmas trees in here?”

“Took you long enough to notice, you big dodo.” Donna grinned.

“I’m glad you came.” Rose smiled nervously. “Told you I wanted to do something special for Christmas. Come, look.” She took his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. Donna followed with a little excited giggle.

The Doctor stood in the small open space of the kitchen, eyes roaming around the crude decorations.  His expression was blank, save for the dimple in his cheek that made Rose’s stomach sink. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Happy Christmas!” She announced, hurrying forward and standing before the table, smiling as genuinely as she could despite the flurry of butterflies in her belly.

His eyes finally landed on her, and a slow smile emerged on his face. “Rose Tyler.”

“I promise we don’t have to do this long. I just thought it’d be nice to do a little something, ‘cos, I dunno… just seemed a bit bummed at the thought of you being alone for Christmas. And Donna’s family, so, of course she’s welcome.”

Donna grinned. “I’m popping out later, but I won’t turn down a warm meal and the chance to see my brother open a cracker.”

“Not opposed to food myself,” the Doctor said, eyeing the table.

Rose couldn’t quite get a read on him. He wasn’t running for the hills—so that was good. But he was still more on the guarded side of things.

“You’re not cross, are you? We don’t have to go caroling or anything like that. I got a plum pudding, though, so I thought I’d—”

“No, I’m not upset. This is… it’s nice. Very kind of you,” he said quietly, swallowing.

Rose drew in a shaky breath. “I’ll just—” She hurried past him to the sitting room to fetch the cookpot, and heard a soft thwack as she rounded the corner.

“Ow! What was that—”

“She did this for you. God knows why, but you could at least show her a bit more…”

The rest of whatever Donna had been about to say was muffled by Rose putting on the vinyl of Christmas music on her way through the sitting room. The record began to play, and the tips of her ears burned as she overheard them once more.

“She did this for  _us_ , Donna.”

“You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

“Oh, this is actually a decent composition of _We Three Kings._ ” The Doctor began to hum along.

“For.  _You_.”

“She’s a friend, Donna. And a student.”

“Is that why you’ve got your pants in a bunch over?”

Rose carried the heavy pot into the kitchen, face flushed and heart pounding. She tried not to let on that she’d been listening, but she couldn’t help feel dejected.

“Erm… let me help you,” said the Doctor.

“Thanks.” Rose said, and he assisted as she pulled the various items from the pot and placed them on the table.

They all sat down and ate the meal, settling into a much less awkward conversation about their respective days. The Doctor and Rose pulled apart one of the crackers, and he smiled, eyes dancing, as she set the pink paper crown atop her hair. When they were finished with the meal, and with the remaining crackers, Rose stood.

“I, um… have another thing. Stay here.” She went upstairs and picked up two presents she had stowed in a draw, and brought them downstairs. When she returned, they had just finished clearing the table.

The Doctor turned towards her first, as a harp accompanied aria of  _the Holly and the Ivy_  filled the air, and his hands clenched at his sides. Rose licked her lips, and he didn’t miss the little subconscious gesture—nor did she miss that he’d glanced at her mouth. It was quick, but made more obvious by how he shifted his position and adjusted his tie.

Rose smiled, her confidence bolstered, and held up the two newspaper-wrapped gifts. They were each roughly the size of an album cover, and tied with red ribbon. “Wouldn’t be Christmas without gifts, yeah?”

Donna turned around then and crossed her arms. “Really, love, you didn’t have to do that.”

“No, it’s—I mean, thank you for everything. For letting me stay here, and helping me feel welcome. You know. I could’ve just ended up here on my own and…” She exhaled, feeling like she was giving a presentation before her entire class. “Anyway, this is yours, and this is yours.” She handed them each their gifts.

The Doctor took his, but captured her hand before she could pull away. “Thank you.”

She smiled shyly at him, at the warmth and sincerity in his eyes.

He then tore open the paper with relish and held up the object within. It was a painting of the stone bench where he’d told her he liked to sit and read. More of a study of light and shade—as she’d caught it at the perfect time of day. Right when a beam of sunlight shone into the alley to illuminate the bench itself, leaving everything else in deep shadow.

He stared at it for a long time, right through the end of the song, and through Donna opening her own gift. At last, he looked up and over at his sister. “What’ve you got there?”

Donna smiled, holding it out. “It’s a meadow of flowers. How lovely—thank you, Rose.”

“Forget-me-nots,” Rose clarified. “They came to mind when I went by a park on one of my walks. Grass was all brown, but where I’m from, that park is covered in forget-me-nots in the spring.”

“Was about to ask when you had time to do this,” Donna said, staring at the painting once more.

“You’ve been working, and the Doctor’s been trying to finish out one of his research projects, so…Found a few things to keep myself busy.” Rose fidgeted with her earring and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Used the painting things you let me borrow.”

The Doctor sniffed. “Well, I have nothing in return, I’m afraid. All of this was unexpected…”

Rose winced a little. “Sorry—I hope I haven’t—”

“Don’t. You needn’t worry, I’m just rather taken by surprise, and this is… it’s beautiful.” He patted his jacket pocket and pulled out his glasses, sliding them on. “You captured the angle of the ray so brilliantly.”

Donna propped her painting up on an end table under a lamp. “Well, I’ll leave you two be. Thanks again for all this. Was really thoughtful of you.”

“Oh—ta. Really, I was happy to do it. No trouble at all.”

Donna smiled and slung on her frock coat. “I’ll be back late.”

“Take care,” said the Doctor, still gazing at his painting.

And then they were alone, the sorrowful sound of  _Greensleeves_  lingering in the background.

“I have a feeling she left early on purpose,” said the Doctor. “And this is  _not_ an appropriate Christmas song.”

Rose stared past him at the record as it spun out the haunting melody. “I think it’s nice. Better than the stuff they come out with in the eighties.”

The Doctor smiled at that. “Would you sing one for me?”

Rose laughed. “Oh, god! No way.”

“Please?” he reached around and pulled the needle off the record. “Let’s hear it. A taste of the future.”

“Are you sure? You’ve heard better cats in the alley, I know it.”

It was his turn to laugh. “That’s all right. I’ll have a go after you if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll do something equally embarrassing. Deal?”

“Fine. I’ll sing… I’ll sing  _Fairytale of New York_  if you dance for me. Show me your moves.” Rose flashed a cunning smile as she swayed her hips a little and put her arms up.

The Doctor blinked at her. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m not dancing.”

“Please? Don’t you wanna hear me sing? Taste of the future? Come on, it’s only fair.”

He sighed and set the painting down. “All right, since it’s just me and you. But I’m not dancing to  _Greensleeves_.”

“It’ll be to whatever you want, then.”

“How about with you. While you sing.”

Rose’s breath hitched as he stepped closer. “O-okay. Yeah.”

He smiled and reached for her hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: kilodalton  
> All mistakes are mine.

Rose jiggled the handle of the Doctor’s attic door to find it locked. She swore under her breath, and turned away to face the empty hall.  _How could he do this?_ What had she done wrong? Glaring at the hideous wallpaper that lined the dim corridor, she played over every moment of Christmas Eve in her mind.

After her song from the future, the Doctor had put on another record, and showed her the steps of a ballroom dance that had recently fallen out of style. One that matched the era of the dress she was wearing when he met her, he’d said.

They’d laughed as he spun her under his arm, and gradually the dance had ended with his body close and his hand upon her waist. She’d smiled up at him, and though he hadn’t returned it, he’d remained captive by her gaze for several moments until he had abruptly let her go and turned away. He’d muttered an apology, and fled, leaving his gramophone to skip for several minutes as Rose stared after him.

The room was hollow without him, and she removed the needle from the vinyl before cleaning up all signs of Christmas with a heavy heart.

A few days had passed, and he hadn’t returned for the gramophone.

Hoping he’d just been busy preparing for his next semester, she’d brought it up to the university, but she was told that he was unavailable, and that they’d deliver it to him for her. She had let the secretary take the heavy case, and slipped past the offices towards one of the back stairwells.

And now here she was, her back to his locked door and stupid tears filling her eyes. No. He wouldn’t do this to her—would he? Just leave without a warning? He knew she was alone here. Maybe he’d just gone out for a bit? Though, the idea of him carrying on about his business, clearly avoiding her in the process, only managed to shift her worry into anger.

Scowling, she headed for the exit and on towards the library along the path they’d taken before. After a few minutes, her anger dwindled to an afterthought. Something about the mild weather and fresh air lifted her spirits. Even birds had taken to song in the naked tree branches. The new year was approaching, tomorrow in fact, so perhaps he’d return for the celebrations.

At that thought, guilt moved in to take place of her fury. This was a different era without mobile phones or the internet to help keep each other in constant contact. Maybe he’d gotten lost in his time travel research. He had been on the verge of a major breakthrough, after all. She smiled to herself, remembering how excited he’d been as he told those stodgy old men about the successful thimble.

Did they kiss at the stroke of midnight in 1913? Would he even  _want_ to do that? He’d run for his life after simply dancing with her, so likely not. That didn’t stop her from imagining it, though.

She arrived at the library and searched every corner for his wild hair and thin frame before running into a librarian who’d been reshelving a stack of books.

“Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry.” Rose helped the woman pick up a dropped book.

“That’s quite all right, thank you. May I help you, dear?”

“Um… yeah, actually. Have you seen the Doctor around? I mean, Professor Noble? Do you know him? Tall, thin—”

“Yes, hard to miss that one. But he hasn’t been here in a few weeks, sorry, love.”

“Oh. Thanks anyway.”

Rose left the library, frustration resurfacing. Unsure of where else to go, she made her way back to Donna’s home.

Donna also hadn’t heard from him, however she insisted it was just like him to disappear without warning and return much the same as though he’d never been away.

“He just pops off on those mad trips of his. Pyramids or Atlantis, I don’t even know. He’ll be back.”

“’Kay.” Rose picked up her uneaten biscuit, bit her lip, and placed it back on the plate. “It’s just, he hasn’t been ‘round since Christmas Eve, and maybe I… maybe I got it wrong.”

Donna gave her a flat look over the edge of her magazine. “Trust me. You’ve got nothing wrong. But, he’s a right prawn for making you worry like this.”

Rose took a bite of the biscuit at last, but didn’t quite feel reassured. Donna hadn’t been there.

She’d been sent back in time to help him—so what if she’d mucked it up with her ridiculous little crush? Maybe he’d caught on, and wanted to put distance between them. Yeah, that made the most sense. He had sometimes seemed wary of her in a way, now that she thought about it.

From now on, she’d tuck her feelings away. She’d focus on the details surrounding her to try and puzzle out the reason why she’d been sent back in time. He didn’t have to be around for that.

Classes were to resume in two days; she’d be certain to see him then.

 

_2 nd January, 1913_

Rose was glad that Donna wanted to accompany her to campus for her first day of work, assuming she still had the job.

They arrived at the steps to McCrimmon Hall, and there he was, standing by the statue of the hall’s namesake as though he’d been awaiting their arrival. As though he’d done absolutely nothing wrong in disappearing for nearly an entire fortnight.

Rose’s stomach did a barrel roll when he smiled their way.  _Stay upset. Or indifferent. Oh, blimey, which was better?_ She flexed her gloved fingers and swallowed.

“Rose! ’Ello!” He met them halfway, and gave Donna a funny look. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, you know. Just making sure your new assistant here isn’t left to wonder what she’s supposed to do if you  _didn_ _’t show up_. Where the hell’ve you been, John?”

“Are you cross? You sound cross.” He swayed back as Donna closed in.

“You’re bloody right I’m cross!”

“Donna, language! There are impressionable minds around!” The Doctor put his hands up in defense.

Rose stepped forward, placing a hand on Donna’s shoulder. “Thanks, Donna. I’ve got it.”

Donna glared at the Doctor and nodded, easing off.

“Blimey, Donna. Did you miss me? You don’t normally get this upset when I…,” he said, words trailing as he locked eyes with Rose.

Rose did her best to suppress the barrage of thoughts about how good he looked, how much she missed the sound of his voice, and how eager she was to be alone with him again. He likely thought nothing of the sort for her. Why would he just go off without telling her if he cared about her in any form? Right, best keep that in mind. She licked her dry lips and stepped towards him.

“You left, and I didn’t hear from you for over a week.”

The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. “About that…”

“You know I’m here under—” she glanced around, “bizarre circumstances. You said you’d help me, so where’ve you been?” That’s it, even and calm.

“Erm… Christmas morning I’d received an urgent telegram. Had to go away for a week. It was for a meteorite crash just outside of Bergen, couldn’t miss it. Rare crystal at its core! Oh, Rose, you should’ve seen it—”

“I’ll give you a rare crystal in your core if you leave like that again without tellin’ her!” Donna came forward again and poked him in the chest. “I didn’t ask to be in this whole mess, and now I’ve had to make up stories to keep my flatmate away.”

Rose studied her shoes and bit her lip.

The Doctor stepped back, rubbing his chest. “Ouch! Sorry!”

“Don’t say it to me, you dollop! Blimey, you can be so thick. Rude and thick!”

He looked from Donna to Rose. “Err—Rose—”

Several people nearby, students and staff alike, stopped to watch the commotion, and Rose sighed, her frustration phasing once more back to guilt. He had important work to do, and she shouldn’t just assume he’d drop it all because of her.

“S’fine, let’s just leave it, yeah?”

Donna straightened her frock coat and huffed. “Brilliant. Since that’s all sorted: Goodbye now; I’ve got things to do.” She stormed off.

“Thank you!” Rose called after Donna, who waved her off without glancing back.

Rose and the Doctor faced each other then, fidgeting awkwardly, until they both attempted to speak up at the same time.

“Listen, I’m—” 

“If you want—”

They both chuckled sheepishly.

The Doctor tugged his ear, smiling. “You first.”

“Okay. Um, listen, I was just worried I’d done something wrong, and… and, yeah, that I made you want to avoid me. Sorry if all that was too much. The… the Christmas party and everything,” she said, rolling the silk rope of her coin purse between her fingers nervously. “Thought it’d be nice, but maybe I was wrong.”

“Oh, no.  _No._ ” He took a step closer to her, brows drawn together. _“_ It was more than nice. I mean—it was _lovely_. Fantastic! The food was delicious! Well done, Rose. Quite a fan of Christmas, you know. Mostly. Some of its more  _domestic_  attributes are, well.” He wrinkled his nose. “I do like the presents, though. And the music, and the smell of evergreen, and—”

“Was it the dancing?”

He swallowed and searched her face, then his shoulders slumped. “Rose…”

Rose’s heart lodged itself in her throat, making the words she’d wanted to scold him with stick to her tongue. She imagined him turning away from her again, and wanted nothing more than for him to stay. Right here.

“It’s all right, Doctor. I shouldn’t have pressured you. And on leavin’ like you did—yeah I get it. Your discoveries are important. I understand. Just—do you think you could let me know next time? If you have to leave for that long. See, I’m used to, um, where I come from, everyone is far easier to get in touch with. Even over long distance, we’re all just a click away.”

His eyes brightened with wonder at that. “Fascinating. But doesn’t that get irksome?”

She smiled. “A bit, yeah.”

He returned her smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I won’t leave without warning again.”

Church bells rang out over the campus, indicating the half hour. The Doctor beckoned her with a wave. “Come along. If you want, I can show you to your desk and get you started on a few things. I’ve got a lecture soon.”

Rose followed him into the building, listening to him go on about his trip all the way, and finally they reached his office where he helped her set up at the spare desk in the corner.

“Right then. Here’s all of the results from the students’ experiments.” He dropped a huge stack of folders on her desk. “And that there is the assignment ledger. If you could please record their results that would help me immensely.”

Rose bit her lower lip as she skimmed over the first paper.  “Sure.”

“I’ll be just through that door.” He pointed.

She looked up at him after opening the assignment ledger to a fresh page. He smiled and stood there, hesitating awkwardly

Rose quirked an eyebrow. “All right. I know, you showed me around, remember?”

He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yep. Okay.” He then spun around and headed off to his class.

Rose blew a stray hair from her face and started on the task, knowing full well that this was likely something he should’ve done over his winter break, but he couldn’t on account of the spontaneous trip to see some sodding meteorite. She sighed, reminding herself to keep neutral, and set in on her task.

After copying over the detailed results from the tenth paper, she began to fidget and stretch her fingers. Blimey, this was dull work. After an hour, she longed for the chance to refold garments that people had held up to themselves and discarded haphazardly on the wrong shelf, something that had once annoyed her to no end when she worked at Henrik’s.

He popped in after his lecture to check on her, and complimented her progress before disappearing again for his next class on spectroscopy.

 The remainder of the day went much the same, with a brief break for tea with the other women of the administrative staff. She ate quietly as they tittered on about the latest gossip. One of their relatives worked downstairs for a wealthy family whose daughter had just reached ‘desirability,’ where men twice her age had begun to solicit her for marriage. It turned her stomach, and she received a few glares for her reactive comments.

The next several days went much the same, in fact. She’d arrive, he’d go over her work, standing close, smelling so nice and speaking with that voice of his, basically lingering in her orbit long enough to make it difficult to stop fancying him, and then he’d go straight to his lectures. She’d sit in the quiet office recording marks or transcribing research with an old typewriter, wishing she had an iPod to keep her company. Or hell, even his gramophone would do.

When she wasn’t doing busywork at her desk, she’d run errands, fetch supplies for the lab, help him clean up after experiments, and return books at the library. Not always as boring as she feared it would be, but she absolutely would go mad doing this sort of thing for years on end.

In time, it even became easier to ignore her feelings for him. Mostly. Their interactions remained strictly professional and there were no lingering looks or accidental touches between them. Well, not many. Okay, there were quite a few, but they hadn’t meant anything. Each one could be explained away, and she did just that. But sometimes, he made her wonder…

“Rose?” The Doctor drawled as she tidied up her desk in preparation for going on break.

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Maybe you could, I dunno, have tea in here. With me? I’d like to hear more about where you’re from. Or should I say— _when_. HA! When! I wonder when I’ll finally get it all sorted? Can’t be too much longer. I am very clever, after all.” He sniffed and straightened his tie.

Rose laughed. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“What?” He tilted his head. “OH! Tea. Brilliant!” He grinned and pulled out a jar of jam and proceeded to eat it with a spoon. Rose must have been making some kind of face, because he paused in the middle of licking the back of the spoon, and pulled a face of his own.

“What?” He blinked at her. “I’m using a spoon this time.”

“What do you normally—nevermind. S’that all you’re going to eat?”

“Ehhm, well. Yes.”

“Oh. Okay then. Cheers.”

He scooped out another spoonful and popped it into his mouth as he kicked his feet up atop of his desk and leaned back in his chair.

“So, tell me, Rose, if you could go anywhere in time, where would you go? Other than wherever I am, of course.” He winked at her.

Rose’s heart fluttered. Was he… flirting? No. Couldn’t be. He was just like that sometimes.  “Um, maybe to meet my dad. He died when I was a baby.”

He removed his feet from the desk and sat forward, face drawn with concern. “I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged a shoulder, but couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I lost my family as well,” he said after a couple minutes of silence.

Rose looked up.

“They’re all gone. Well, except for Donna, but she’s not my real sister.”

This meant something, his opening up to her about his past. She could feel it around them, a bond of sorts. Thin and fragile. She remained quiet as he spoke, afraid that even the sound of her sigh could make it shatter.

“I knew them a little, as I was a child when they were lost.” He leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, that’s enough about me.”

Rose fought away the questions she wanted to ask, and subdued the powerful urge to cross the room and hug him. Both might do more harm than good, and she didn’t want to take any chances.

Still, she felt like she should say  _something_.

“I don’t mind listening.”

He smiled at her, warmth in his eyes, but said no more.

After that, Rose and the Doctor spent every break together. Whether they remained in the office and talked about everything under the sun, or they went outside for fresh air and a quick stroll, they were rarely seen apart. Except during his lectures. She’d been very adamant about respecting his request that she not sit in on them, and realized eventually that it was more or less a university rule.

But one day after completing a stack of assignment reviews, she heard the class burst into laughter. It wasn’t unusual, per se, but it was perfectly timed. She’d just finished setting up the lab for his next class, and had been daydreaming about how much more interesting business school would’ve been if she had him as a professor. Maybe she could just… listen for a second. Not go in, just stand outside and listen. Maybe get a peek? He wouldn’t mind that, would he?

Her feet began moving before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, choosing to go around to the student entrance—that way she’d go unnoticed by the students as their backs would be towards her.

She neared the door that led to his lecture hall and paused outside, listening without seeing. He was going on about something to do with the relationship between matter and radiated energy, weaving a tale from one of his madcap adventures into the lesson. And then, without quite realising it, she’d drifted into the threshold and leaned against the jamb.

He kept on without missing a beat, not even appearing to notice that she was there even though she had to be in his direct line of sight. His eyes skipped around the room, engaging his audience, but not once falling on her. He went on and on, segueing from one point to another with grace—it was incredible how much he knew, and how deftly he could convey such complicated information in a way that didn’t make her want to take a kip in the back row. At last, he went silent and turned around to write something on the board—an assignment.

She scanned over the students then. All male. Of course… she knew that. All the names from their assignments sprang back to her memory. The Doctor had told her that women take classes in a separate building on campus, and she knew she was back in time. But to  _see_  it. To see all the short-cropped hair and pale skin and tidy uniform suits just struck a nerve. To know that she wasn’t  _allowed_  on account of her gender.

“Pardon me, miss,” said a voice behind her.

Rose turned around to find a professor standing there, eyebrow raised.

“Yes?” Rose asked, stepping away from the classroom.

“May I ask what you are doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the other girls?”

She made a face at that, and opened her mouth to retort when the clamour of the Doctor’s class being dismissed interrupted her.

Students filed out of the room, carrying on with each other. A few of them made eyes at Rose, and she shifted uncomfortably. They were around her age, which she’d known as well, but the whole situation just made her feel like a child.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the professor said, drawing her attention back to him.

“Why not? I was just listening in. No harm in that,” Rose seethed.

A few passing students chuckled, and she wasn’t sure if they’d been laughing at her, but she glared at them all the same.

The professor smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant either. One of those patronising sorts that made her feel even smaller.

“Don’t get any funny ideas into that pretty little head of yours,” he said, and reached out to pat her head. She ducked away just in time.

“Oi, stop—”

“What’s going on here?” It was the Doctor, following the last student out to inspect the commotion.

“Ah, Professor Noble. I found this girl here listening in on your lecture.”

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. “I am aware, and that’s quite all right. This  _woman_  is my assistant.”

Rose’s cheeks flared with heat. He  _had_ noticed her all along.

 “Well then, maybe you should handle her? I’ve got more important things to do.” The professor gave Rose a little smirk before he turned away and headed down the hall.

“Professor Saxon,” said the Doctor once he was out of earshot. “He’s a bit of a cad. Sorry.”

“Just a bit of a cad?”

“An absolute, sodding bastard.” The Doctor turned to her. “How’s the work coming? Are you bored?”

The corner of her mouth pulled in a slight smile. “Something like that. No, it’s fine. I finished a chunk so I wanted to stretch my legs. Sorry for, you know.”

“No harm done.” He scratched the back of his head, eyes flitting around at the students entering his classroom. “I, erm…” he hesitated, and his gaze finally settled on her. “I have to give two more lectures.”

Rose nodded. “I know your schedule.”

He smiled, lines splaying from his eyes. “Of course. I, ehm, I’ll just talk to you when I’m done.”

Rose brushed her thumb along the rough fabric of her woolen skirt. “R-Right.”

He returned to his lecture hall, and she returned to the office where she resumed her work, but found it difficult to focus as Professor Saxon’s words kept creeping back into her mind. He’d been bloody awful, and the looks those students had given her made her teeth grind.

With every passing day the era’s many flaws—rampant sexism just one of the lot—had begun to wear her down. It’d been easy to detach at first. She didn’t belong here. But it was growing increasingly more difficult to ignore the more deeply she became embedded in this life. Part of her was glad for it. Kept her from getting too comfortable here.

The Doctor returned from his final class of the day as she fussed with a form he’d asked her to create. He looked downcast as he slapped a field journal on his desk, but when he glanced up to her, his expression softened.

“All going well, then?” he asked, approaching her desk.

“Yes, just finishing up.”

He spun the nearby globe and let his finger drag across the surface. “Listen, I—I’m sorry about earlier. I was—” The globe stopped and he peered closely. “Oh! I’ve never been there!”

Rose smiled behind her wrist as she watched him.

“Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes. Would you like to go inspect that tunnel again? Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” He waggled his eyebrows, which made his offer seem like he was hinting at doing something far more scandalous than what he intended to infer. It made her laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I’d love to. Was hoping you’d ask sometime. I mean, I would’ve, but I figured. You know.” She shrugged a shoulder, not really certain if even she knew. And once again he’d made her feel too flustered to sort out whatever she  _had_ meant.

He smiled, teeth flashing. “Oh, it’s all right. Let’s go then!”

“Right now?”

“Can’t think of a better time than now.”

Rose’s heart expanded in her chest, but she tempered it with a quick reminder that this trip would be a perfect opportunity to determine if their discovery in the tunnel had anything to do with why she was sent back in time.  _That_ _’s right, Rose. Focus on what matters._

They closed up the office, and set out, heading first to the Gallifrey Library, this time taking a more direct route across a busy street. Without hesitation, the Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand, and they dashed across, dodging an automobile that had attempted to swerve around a startled horse.

Once on the other side, they slowed their pace to a leisurely stroll, both grinning from the rush. She squeezed his hand and bumped her shoulder against him.

“That was fun,” she declared.

He smiled at her, eyes dancing. “Wasn’t it though? Oh, just wait. I'm planning a trip to the Amazon next. There's evidence of an ancient meteor crash in the middle of the jungle! I'd love you to come with me.”

"Sounds dangerous."

"Oh, it is."

As they reentered the campus and walked along the quiet, secluded pavement, someone stepped around a corner to head in their direction. A lady, elegantly dressed with her hair up under a cluster of flowers and a flowing, beaded dress dancing about her ankles. She opened a frilly parasol to shade herself from the bright sun, and smiled their way.

The Doctor dropped Rose’s hand, and she saw his posture straighten.

Rose bristled. It was like a cold blade had separated them, and she folded her arms at her chest.

“Bonjour, Professor Noble,” the woman said, canting her head.

“Enchanté, Mademoiselle Poisson.” He returned her gesture of greeting with an exaggerated, flourishing bow.

“How do you fare on this gorgeous day?” she said, extending her hand.

“Brilliant, as always." He took her hand and kissed the back of it. The woman laughed; it was a clear, pretty sound that made Rose's stomach lurch.

“You’re so charming when you want to be,” she said, her accent clearly French, and then her eyes settled upon Rose. She smiled and tilted her head. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before, miss…?”

"This is Miss Rose Tyler, my new assistant. Rose, this is Professor Reinette Poisson, she teaches over at the college for women. French studies. French language. French food. French this and that, you know.”

Reinette smiled at Rose. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Rose.”

Rose smiled thinly. "Pleasure's all mine, I’m sure."

Reinette turned back to the Doctor. "I must head to my next lecture. John, do tell your sister I said hello. How is she, anyway? I’ve not seen her since the new year.” She twirled her parasol absently.

“Oh, she’s doing well, got a job somewhere. I’ll tell her you were asking for her, though.” He winked at her.

Reinette smiled behind her hand, a blush creeping across her cheeks. "Splendid. Well, I must go. Bonne journée, Mademoiselle Rose, Professor Noble!”

“À bientôt!” The Doctor grinned and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, rocking on his heels.

Rose glared at a crack on the pavement, too sick to her stomach to watch them any longer.

“Shall we?”

“Sure.” She started off without him.

The Doctor hurried to catch up. “I wonder if Donna knows.”

“Knows what?”

“That she has an admirer.”

Rose looked up at him then. “What d’you mean?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious? Mademoiselle Poisson fancies her.”

“She fancies—wait, she fancies your sister? Not you?”

“Me?” He laughed. “No. I think she might’ve fancied me at one time, but then she met Donna.”

Rose grinned, relief making her feel buoyant and giddy as they closed in on the library’s front steps. “Well then, does Donna return those feelings?”

“I have no idea, but now I know they saw each other at the turning of the New Year, and that’s something.” He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him with a smile.

They entered the library, and went straight for the stairwell that led to the basement, passing the librarian Rose had spoken to the last time she was here. The librarian stopped Rose with a hand on her arm.

“Ah, hello, dear. I see you found him,” she said to Rose with a nod in the Doctor’s direction.

“Er…yes. There he is!” Rose said through an uneasy grin.

“Good, let me know if I can help you find anything else.”

“Ta!” Rose hurried to catch up with the Doctor at the bannister.

“Looking for me, were you?” asked the Doctor, who was leaning against the bannister.

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe a bit. When you were in Norway.”

“Oh, that. Sorry.”

“Let’s leave it. So it’s down that way?”

“Indeed.”

They descended the stairs, heading further into the underground levels. Rose remembered having to go down this way for one of her first year history assignments. Smelled just the same, all the mouldering, ancient paper.

“Who do you reckon was that person we saw before?” she asked, once they’d put considerable distance between themselves and anyone else in this place.

“No idea, but it wouldn’t surprise me if employees of both buildings use the tunnel from time to time. Quickest route during a break, I daresay.”

“Ah, but that’s so ordinary.”

“What were you hoping for?”

“I dunno. A secret order of knights who protect the living bloodline of Christ, maybe.”

The Doctor hummed with amusement. “That’s much more interesting, I agree.”

Their voices echoed off the circular stairwell, so the Doctor brought his voice to a whisper.

“We’re heading down to where they store the oldest old stuff. Quite fascinating, really. Books hand-written by monks from the medieval period. Egyptian scrolls. All for another day, though.”

They reached a small room filled with stacked crates, and shelves of musty books. The Doctor moved aside a moth-eaten tapestry, revealing a barred door. He took out his screwdriver invention and used it to pick the lock.

They entered the tunnel, the way before them lit by the little blue bulb atop that very same screwdriver, and the Doctor stopped around the halfway mark between the library and the theatre.

“You said the wall here felt warm?” He slid on his glasses and squinted at the earthen wall, hand hovering but not touching.

Rose nodded, feeling along the wall nearby. “Here.”

He moved his hand over beside hers and pressed his palm against the surface. “Ooh, curious. I’d never noticed this before.”

She leaned her ear close to the dirt, and he did the same.

“What do you hear?” he asked in a whisper, their faces just a foot apart.

Rose’s eyes dropped to his lower lip briefly before she closed them to focus. “A humming.”

“Me too.”

She opened her eyes to find him gazing at her with barely contained wonder. As much as she wanted it to be because of her, it likely had far more to do with the mystery at hand.

“You know what else is strange?” he asked, confirming her assumption.

She shook her head.

“Feels like metal.” He rubbed the wall.

She brushed her finger back and forth. “Oh, oh! It does! But it didn’t seem to at first, weird.”

The Doctor smiled and looked up, tongue touching his top teeth. “I think we’re dealing with an old fashioned illusion. A play of light and shadow. Maybe a little trick of the mind as well. Sophisticated, that. Hmm.” His eyes dropped to meet hers. “Wanna see what’s on the other side?”

Rose nodded, heart skipping a beat, and backed away to give him space. He fussed with the settings on his screwdriver, and aimed it at the tunnel ceiling. The illusion shimmered when the blue light passed over a certain spot. With a gleeful sound, he passed the screwdriver off to her, and reached up, biting his tongue and squinting as he felt around.

Rose watched him sceptically. “Are you sure that thing’ll—”

“Aha!”

With a click, the dirt wall illusion vanished, revealing a steel door. He held his hand out, and she returned the screwdriver to him so he could work the security locks.

The locks clicked right away, and the Doctor pressed the door open.

“You were saying?” He waggled his eyebrows, and strolled into the room without an ounce of caution.

Rose followed him in, and bumped into his back when he came to an abrupt stop.

“Blimey,” he whispered.

She stepped around to stand next to him and gaped. Just barely visible in the glow of blue light was a computer terminal and some kind of metal platform with pylons that arched up overhead. The Doctor went straight for it, eyes widened in awe.

“Have you seen anything like this before, Rose?” He rubbed his chin.

Rose fidgeted with her earring as she walked closer. “Um, yeah. Well, not this exact thing, but that part looks like a computer from my time, or thereabout.” She shook her head as her vision blurred.

“Fascinating…” He leaned close and inspected the CPU, long fingers gliding across the sleek surface. “It’s beautiful!”

Rose watched his hand, his long fingers grounding her. “But it’s not supposed to be here, yeah?”

“Mmm. Ha!” He snapped his fingers. “I must’ve travelled forward in time, and brought it back somehow, which means I’m close. And that means the person we saw before was yours truly. Brilliant! I need to be more careful next time, though. Oh, Rose, this is just a red letter day, is it not?” He clapped his hand on the CPU, knocking the terminal, and the screen brightened, revealing a rotating logo screensaver. The Doctor jumped back with a little yelp.

Rose stared at the logo, recognizing it as belonging to her stepfather’s company, the one she was meant to work for once she graduated uni. Her vision blurred again as the honeycomb-shaped T rotated on the screen.  _Oh, no_ _…_

“Oooh, we can interface with it!” The Doctor scurried back towards the computer.

“Doctor, wait, I—” A wave of dizziness crashed over her, and she stumbled forward.

The Doctor looked back, and caught her in the hook of his arm just in time. He attempted to help her stand upright.

“Rose! What’s happened? Do you hear me?”

Her surroundings went a bit hazy, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“No, oh no—ROSE!”

His shout roused her, and her eyes popped back open, but the room continued to spin behind his head even as she tried hard to concentrate on his face.

“Torchwood,” she whispered, the logo revolving in her mind.

“What? Stop. No. Listen to me, Rose. Focus on my voice. Today is the twenty-fourth of January, nineteen thirteen. Happy Friday, right?” He gathered her in his arms and lifted her off the ground.

“That symbol, it’s—” Her eyes felt heavy, though her body was light as air. His voice tingled as it flowed around her, but it began to ebb as she felt him place her lower half on the ground, her upper half still supported against him.

“There wasn’t anything. See? There’s nothing here but a dirt wall. You’re Rose Tyler, and it’s the twenty-fourth of January, nineteen thirteen. You’re with me—er, Professor John Noble, you know, the Doctor?”

Her head rolled to the side along his arm, and she felt him cradle her cheek in his hand to pull her face back towards his. “Everyone else laughs, but you always call me that, and I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

She could hear a smile in his trembling voice, but despite how much she longed to keep hearing him speak, it’d begun to fade so very far away.

“Rose! Please don’t leave me.  _Please!_  Listen to me. It’s the twenty-fourth of January nineteen thirteen.” He repeated it over and over until it became nothing more than a faint echo in her mind.

Everything went quiet and dark for an indeterminate amount of time, until her eyes fluttered open at last.

“Doctor…”

His voice was hoarse as he forced out the words. “January, nineteen thirteen. Twenty-fourth—Rose!”

She looked up at him, and he gave her a watery smile, eyes still desperate and sad.

"Thank heavens," he said, thumb brushing her cheek.

This had to be a dream. Her heart began to pound, her hand ached to return his touch, but she didn't want to startle him by moving.

She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and his throat just right there where she could easily burrow her nose.

"Let's get you up."

She took a deep breath as though she hadn't been breathing ever since she woke. "Yeah."

With his help, she rose to her feet and brushed herself off. “What on earth—” A slight wave of dizziness passed over her, making her stumble against him. He steadied her with gentle hands on her arms.

“Rose—”

She regained her bearings, and looked up to meet his eyes again. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he responded, his voice tender.

She smiled. “Wh-what happened?”

He glanced over her shoulder at the wall. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Um… You used your screwdriver to reveal that there’s some sort of illusion there. There was a door behind it, and I think we went through.” She squeezed her eyes shut and swayed.

His grip on her arms tightened, helping her stay strong on her feet.

“Yes, it was pitch dark inside, and you hit your head on a beam.”

She held her head, which was more in a fog than anything.  “Oh? I don’t remember…”

“Yes, you tripped—you’re rather clumsy you know. Turned out to just be an old opium den. The wall is a projection—a stage trick, you see.”

Rose frowned. “Really? Ah, well. Let’s give it another go? Has to be something in there worth hiding.”

“No!” His eyes went wide, then he shook his head. “I mean, it was boring. Booooring.” He made a razzing sound and waved his hand dismissively.  “Trust me. I had a look around while you were lying about. Anyway, we should head back and put some ice on that noggin of yours. Mystery solved!”

He turned her toward the library, and linked his arm through hers. “Off we go, now.”

She complied, mystified by his behavior, but didn’t want to spoil his new penchant for touching her by drawing much attention to it. Their way was lit by the glow of his screwdriver gadget, and they both remained silent save for the scruff of their shoes against the earth.

Rose spoke up as they reached the library entrance in the tunnel, unable to let the oddities of his story go unquestioned any longer.

“Wait. So who do you think it was that we saw before? If it was just some old opium den…”

The Doctor averted his eyes, hand on the latch of the door. “Erm… No idea.”

“My head doesn’t hurt.” She let go of his arm and pressed both hands against her skull. “See? Nothing.”

“Blimey, but that’s a miracle!” He opened the door and ushered her through it, then whipped around to lock it back and straighten out the tapestry.

“Doctor, what’s going on? Something’s not right.”

"All right. I might have found an apothecary table in there stocked with opium. Clearly it's still in use and we must report or to the authorities straight away." His eyes jumped up to her forehead and he shuddered. "What a lump! Come on, Rose. I can give you something when we get back to my office."

"Fine, fine."

He hummed as they began their ascent, the same tune that was playing on the gramophone when he and Rose had danced on Christmas Eve. She fell in place behind him, unable to keep from smiling despite her mounting suspicions.

She snuck a glimpse of herself as they passed a mirror when they reached the library's main floor. No lump. As sore as she should have been about his secrecy, she mostly felt relieved that her purpose for being sent here had finally begun to unveil itself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem that the Doctor recites is attributed to lyrics by Faith and the Muse in their song The Sea Angler, and is not mine. Thank you to lauraxxtennant for the britpick!

“We’re snowed in!” declared the Doctor upon returning from his final lecture.

“Really?” Rose looked up from her work with an eyebrow raised. “Can’t be that bad, can it?”

“Well, you can go home if you wish. Students are being sent home early as it’s supposed to keep on through the night. First big storm of the season!” He spread his arms as though to emphasize just how big, and grinned. When Rose didn’t return his enthusiasm, he reined it in and shifted a few things around on his desk. “In my youth, we’d have snow on the ground for weeks and weeks. Winters have been rather uneventful lately, so it’s nice.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Just wouldn’t expect everything to shut down that’s all.” She smiled and stood, heading for the windows in the lab room. “Blimey. It’s coming down heavy. Guess you don’t really have plows.”

The Doctor joined her at the window and stared out, his grin having returned. “We have plows, Rose. This isn’t the stone age.” He leaned close, his breath fogging over the window. “Oh, it’ll be good for a snow fort, I can already tell.”

Rose laughed. “Fancy a snowball fight?”

He beamed at her. “Absolutely!”

“’M not joking. You’re toast.”

“We’ll see, Rose Tyler. Did I not just mention how my youth was a veritable arctic excursion? I learnt how to throw snowballs from trees. Aimed straight at the heads of the bigger kids who’d pick on the young ones. Just ask Donna.”

“She turned around and leaned back against the counter that ran along the wall. “Reckon you’re right though. I don’t think I’m up for the walk home in this, and one of those old-timey cars is out of the question. They’re freaky enough when the sun’s out.”

The Doctor gave her a sideways smile. “ _‘_ _Old-timey_ _’_?” He shook his head as he turned around with her, and slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “All’s well. We have our work cut out for us. They turned in their research projects today.”

“Ah, that’s right. You know I’ve no clue about this stuff, yet you trust me to read it and make notes for you.”

The Doctor tilted his head to the side in thought. “I do. You see, my brain is all wound up in it. Can’t let it go, so I rely on your uncluttered mind to help me see things I might miss. I don’t miss much, mind, but another set of eyes always helps. You catch things like whether they’ve contradicted themselves, for example.” He smiled at her. “Besides, you’re picking it up a bit along the way.”

“Suppose so.”

He clapped his hands together. “Let’s get started, shall we? It’ll be nice to have it all over with.”

“If we have to.” Rose forced a smile. Wasn’t quite her idea of how to spend a snowy afternoon, but at least she had a nice view whilst she worked, considering the Doctor’s desk was across from hers, and she could observe his profile, and the way his bottom lip jutted out as he tapped his pen against it in thought.

They spent the remainder of the daylight hours reading over the student’s assignments. The Doctor would go over them first, make his notes, and then hand them off to Rose. As they finished the final project, they returned to the window to find a thick layer of snow covering everything in sight. A few flakes continued to fall, though the storm had hit a lull, allowing drifts to gleam in the hazy glow of the streetlights.

“Are we the only ones still here?” Rose shivered in the midst of the drafty window, and her stomach growled audibly.

The Doctor shrugged a shoulder. “Likely not. Peckish?” He watched her rub her arms.

“Guess you heard that.”

He chuckled. “Just barely over the sound of my own stomach.” There was a little pause, and he drew in a breath. “I’ve a new radiator installed in the attic; we can make it nice and warm. Would you like to come up for tea? I even cleared out a little area on the storage side for a proper table. I’ll fetch something from the kitchens and bring it up. Anyway, I’d planned on working on the wardrobe a bit tonight and you could, I dunno know, paint something.”

 _Spend the evening in his room?_  Would she ever. Rose shifted and averted her gaze, not wanting to appear too eager. “Yeah. Okay.”

He tugged at his ear with a nod. “Good, good. Well, head on up—oh, you’ll need a key.” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a key on a chain, offering it to her.

“Oh.” Rose reached for it, and he let it fall into her palm.

“That’s a spare copy, by the way. Anytime you’d like to go there to paint or read, or what have you.” He sniffed.

It was truly difficult not to think that this was significant. Rose stared at the gleaming key and bit her lip. “But that’s your room. Where you sleep, and, and get dressed.”

“Ehhhm, well, I trust you to knock if you suspect I’m there.” He tucked his hands into his pockets as he wandered casually towards the laboratory exit.

Her lip quirked at his attempt at nonchalance. “What about sleeping arrangements? You know, ‘cos we’re snowed in tonight.”

He stopped, hand on the jamb to their office room. “I’ll sleep on the sofa down here.”

“Or I could. I don’t mind.” She crossed the room and entered the office to grab her frock coat. She felt his eyes on her as she passed him by.

“My, um, my bed is far more comfortable, so I insist.”

She smiled at him. “Meet you upstairs.”

Rose headed to the attic and let herself in. It was freezing, so she slid on her frock coat, but it did little to ward off the cold. She went straight for the radiator and turned it on. Took forever, but eventually she was able to warm her hands over a toasty aura of heat.

As she waited, she couldn’t help but to take a look around. Nothing too intrusive. The painting she’d given him at Christmas hung on the wall over his desk, and she smiled, imagining what he thought as he picked that spot.

A field journal lay upon his desk, open to a page filled with his elegant, yet simultaneously sloppy handwriting, interspersed with a few complicated-looking equations. She tilted her head, attempting to read it, and managed to pick out a few familiar concepts.

Feeling a little guilty for that minor breech of confidence, she tore her eyes away and sought out a place to sit. The chair nearby was piled with books, and so she moved the stack to a corner of his desk. The attempt disturbed the pages of his field journal, making a couple pages flip. It settled on a page with a sketch. She peered at it, curious.

“Oh!” She covered her mouth in surprise, recognizing it as one of the sketches she’d seen whilst looking through the baseboard of his other cupboard in the future: A sketch of herself with her hair up, and a friendly smile. The pen strokes were so fresh and clear, unlike the faded and smudged version she’d seen in the future. Her heartbeat tripled in rhythm, and she quickly turned the pages back to his notes.

“Oh, god,” she murmured, covering her face in her hands. He’d drawn a portrait of her from memory, at least she assumed. She certainly had no memory of her drawing it in her presence. Either way, her face began to hurt from smiling so hard, and she sat back in the chair.

Did it mean he felt the same? Why else would he draw her like that? Why was the room so hot all of a sudden? She unbuttoned the high collar of her dress, and removed her frock coat, tossing it to the bed nearby.

A click at the bottom of the stairs alerted Rose that the Doctor had arrived, and she shot up to her feet. He ascended the stairs, and she smoothed out her hair, giving him a bright smile as he emerged from the stairwell.

“Doctor! Hello!” she announced, her voice too loud and her smile too huge.

“Heeeello,” he said, eyebrows raised.

“Um, here I’ll help.” Rose crossed the room towards him. She reached for the tray, and they awkwardly lowered it to the newly added table as a team. He released the tray, and her fingers brushed his as she did the same.

She drew in a quick breath and looked up, already hyper-sensitive over what she’d seen in his journal, but his eyes remained locked on her hands.

“It’s a bit too hot in here, don’t you think?” he said, snapping out of his trance. He adjusted his collar and moved away to check the radiator.

Rose stuffed a chunk of bread into her mouth before she said anything too embarrassing. Once he had the radiator sorted, he pulled out the easel for her and set it up near the bannister.

“Fumes might be a problem with oils,” he said, rubbing his chin in thought. “Watercolour all right?”

Rose nodded, swallowing the last of the too-big bite. “Quite.”

After having tea and sharing a meal of roasted vegetables, potatoes, and chicken that the Doctor had commandeered from the kitchens, they each branched off to work on their respective interests. Rose set up the watercolour palette on a crate from the other side of the attic, and the Doctor moved to his desk.

A brief surge of fear ran up her spine. What if he could somehow tell that she’d disturbed his journal? She watched covertly as he sat down and pulled something—a small box—out of a drawer, not even paying his journal a spare glance. She breathed a sigh of relief nevertheless.

As time went on, Rose lost herself in the painting. Every stroke of the brush relaxed her further, and she began to hum. Sometimes she’d paint things from her imagination, and this was one of those times. A mermaid underwater with glowing eyes, looking up to the shadow of a fisherman on a boat.

The Doctor wandered by and looked it over. “Ah, now this going to be my favourite. I can tell.”

She ran her brush over the mermaid’s hair. “How d’you reckon?”

“Don’t misunderstand me, you’re very good at painting from real life, but there’s a world in your head that’s far more intriguing to me, and I get a little glimpse into it with this painting.”

“God,” Rose said, trying not to smile.

“What? It’s true.”

“Thanks.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she hated how she came off a bit weak, so unused to accepting such profound remarks on her artwork.

The Doctor turned away and opened the blue doors of the wardrobe-time machine.  “Reminds me of a poem,” he said distractedly once he began to tinker inside.

Rose assumed correctly that he’d recite it whether or not she acknowledged him.

“There was a gentle angler who was angling in the sea, with heart as cold as only heart untaught of love can be,” the Doctor went on, voice muffled from under the control panel.

Rose smiled to herself as he continued.

“When suddenly the waters rushed and swelled, and up there sprang, a humid maid of beauty’s mold, and thus to him she sang. Why dost thou strive so artfully to lure my brood away, and leave them to die beneath the sun’s all-scorching ray, coulds’t thou but tell how happy are the fish that swim below…”

His voice trailed off, presumably because he needed to focus, and they both fell into an intent silence.

She stepped back from her work to give it a good look once she felt it was complete. It was so familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was just eerie, like other things have been of late. That tunnel room, for instance.

“Half pulled, half plunging down he sank and na’er was heard of more.” He sat up, hair mussed and tie loosened. “Think I skipped a few lines.”

“Doctor?”

“Rose?”

“I still can’t shake that room. You know, the one in the tunnel. I feel like I missed something.”

He searched the tools he had spread out around himself. "I swore I had a gyrospanner around here somewhere... Ah! Rose, could you please pass that to me?" He pointed to a small metal tool on his desk.

Rose complied, and placed it in his hand. "I remember seeing equipment there just before I passed out. A computer. Yeah!"

The Doctor began hammering something inside the wardrobe, and didn't answer.

"Why are you being so weird about it?"

He sat up and inspected his fancy screwdriver, adjusting it. "Beg your pardon? It's not weird to use a spanner to hammer down a tiny nail in a hard-to-reach spot now, is it?"

Rose sighed and rolled her eyes. "Talking about the tunnel, Doctor. You act all evasive anytime I bring it up. What gives?"

He pulled himself to his feet, and folded his arms. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and combined with the waistcoat, well, the whole kit made her unconsciously lick her lips, and straighten her posture. She looked away from him and rubbed her hairline behind her ear.  _Get a bloody grip._

“Lump never did show up on my head.”

"Well, I, ehm…” He sighed in defeat. “I don't want you to remember, that’s why. That’s what gives."

Her face snapped back to him. "But, why? What happened?"

"I almost lo—you saw something that almost sent you back to your time." He gazed at her coolly at first, but it softened as he studied her face. "Didn't think you'd be ready to go back yet."

She put her hand on her chest, thumb fiddling with the button on her opened collar. "Oh."

He toyed with his screwdriver, turning the light on and off. “You’re not, are you?”

“What? Oh. No, I wasn’t ready.” She sat in the chair and stared at the floor, letting the surge of trepidation pass over her. “But it’s a bit strange, yeah? Why is it we can talk about it, but if I see it I’ll get sent back?”

“Has to do with your deep subconscious, and how reality has bent around you to bring you here. Directly experiencing something from your time bends you back towards your original reality, but indirectly discussing it won’t. Though I suspect if we discussed it long enough, it could be possible, so perhaps we should stop?” He gathered up his tools, and wandered to his desk, shuffling folders around as he answered.

Rose screwed up her face. “I think I understand.”

An awkward silence passed between them, and the Doctor tapped his fingers along his desk nervously. At last he took in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “My lady, please accept my most humble apology for keeping it from you, and lying about your injury. That was wrong of me.”

Rose stifled a yawn behind her hand, raising her eyebrows. “Huh? Oh, sorry.” She gave a sheepish smile, tucking hair behind her ear. “It’s—it’s fine. I understand.”

“I was fearful of—of losing you, and wanted to make sure enough time had passed to know you’re safe before I informed you.”

His voice was so gentle it made her want to cover her head in a blanket and swoon like some lovesick idiot. Mercifully, she resisted. They stared at each other, and the very same longing she felt was reflected in his eyes. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t stand or reach out. He’d been afraid that he’d lose her, and now she feared the same, if all it took was one little out-of-time visual reminder.

“Good, good.” He nodded, and at last let out the breath he’d been holding. The tension hanging between them dissolved as he tore his eyes away to study his desk.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

He snapped his fingers. “Oh!”

Rose blinked. “Oh?”

He slid on his specs and picked up a letter from his desk. “Forgot to tell you. I was asked to join an expedition to a meteorite impact site up north. Apparently ever since the collision, the townsfolk nearby have been falling ill. They say the ground surrounding the crater is littered with bizarre green pebbles, and they need my expertise.” He sniffed and straightened his waistcoat. “The plan is to travel up by train over the Easter breaks.”

Rose nodded, smoothing out her skirt. Well, at least this time he let her know before he disappeared for days on end. “Ah, okay. That sounds like you’ll have a great time.”

“Should be jolly good, but, ehm…only if you came along, Rose Tyler.” He smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Rose shot up to her feet, grinning like mad. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

"It's settled, then.” He rocked on his feet. “Good thing, on account that I’ve already secured our tickets. Trouble is—fare is rather expensive, so we’ll have to share a sleeper.”

“Can’t wait. I—I mean to go on the trip.” She laughed.

“Brilliant! Er, so the sharing…?”

She yawned through her smile. “Sharing is, it’s fine, but won’t people think it’s, I dunno, unseemly?”

“Good thing about travelling from Kings Cross is there’ll be too many people.” He tilted his head after her attempt to stifle yet another yawn. “You should rest. It’s late.”

Rose glanced over at the bed. “Yeah.”

“Make yourself comfortable; there’s an extra blanket if you should need it. I’ll, ah, head down and lock the door on my way out.”

She pulled down the tatty quilts, and looked up to find him staring at her hands on his sheets. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“What?” He blinked out of his trance. “Oh. Goodnight, Rose. I’ll take you to my sister’s place in the morning once the roads are clear.”

“Okay. Night,” she said, and they shared a smile before he ducked downstairs.

As she turned out the lights, a gleam caught her eye from a box on the Doctor’s desk. Assuming it was just some tool he’d left out, and still feeling a little guilty for her earlier snooping, she avoided taking a peek. She removed her dress down to her chemise, and slid under the numerous threadbare quilts. It was like having his arms around her, and she nuzzled his pillow, breathing in his scent, as she drifted off to sleep.

It was nearly one in the afternoon when she finally awoke the following day. She dressed, hurried downstairs and through hallways to find the Doctor in his lab with piles of objects and opened books around him on the table.

“Aha! There you are. Splendid timing, Rose. I’ve called for a car to take you back to Donna’s. Should be here shortly.”

Rose’s heart dropped. “Oh. Already?”

He looked up from his work, twisting a tiny wire around another bit of metal with a set of miniscule tools under a magnifier. “Well, you did sleep half the day away.”

“There’s still snow on the ground though, yeah? We can go out and have that snowball fight.” She leaned over his table to watch his long fingers piece together the delicate parts of whatever he was building.

“We’ll have to postpone.” He said, leaning closer and squinting as he focused. “She’s going to a demonstration this afternoon, and I thought you’d like to join her so I agreed on your behalf.”

Rose tilted her head, still watching him. “Oh? What sort of demonstration?”

“Some sort of rally for the women’s right to vote.” He paused and made a face. “I suppose it’s terribly ironic that I didn’t give you a say in the matter—sorry.”

“Yeah, a bit.” She laughed. “But, no, yeah I’d love to go!”

He smiled at her. “I thought so. Things are heating up, Rose. Many protests are peaceful, but there’ve also been fires, and damage to property. Just a couple weeks ago they cut telegraph wires to Glasgow! How does it all turn out? No, don’t tell me. I’ll find out soon enough. Can feel it on the air, like history’s being made.” He stared off into space for a moment, then snapped out of it and resumed his work.

“So we’re going straight there?”

“I believe so. She learnt of it only an hour ago—these things usually spring out from nowhere so authorities have less time to shut it down. Just be careful, Rose. It gets passionate, and you might have the urge to reassure them, or save someone. It’s best to leave history alone as a time traveller, no matter what.”

And he was right. So right that it felt like she was being physically strangled into silence when the woman on the crate in the middle of the small abandoned lot was pelted with gravel and rubbish midway through her battle cry.

Rose tried to push her way through the increasingly raucous crowd—couldn’t hurt anything to just help the woman escape, could it?—but the crowd reached a thick frenzy that she couldn’t penetrate. Within moments, the police had arrived, and the woman was taken away.

 

A week later, Rose  _finally_  received her wages for the month of January, and she sought out Donna as soon as she returned home that evening from work. She found her reading over a pamphlet with a hard look in her face.

"She's gonna refuse her trial. We're called on to disrupt court proceedings so long as we don't harm anyone," Donna said before Rose could get a word out. “What've you got there?"

“Oh, it's... I promised I’d pay rent as soon as I could. Hope it’s enough,” Rose said, passing the envelope to Donna.

Donna refused, gently pushing the envelope away. “Keep it. Anyway, I’ve got something to tell you.” She took a long sip of tea, and gestured to the seat across from her. “Might want to have a seat.”

“What? Something happen?” She sat down hesitantly.

Donna pursed her lips. “It’s my housemate. She’s returning from her holiday abroad next week, and she's got a husband now.”

“Oh,” Rose said with a bit of relief. But then it dawned on her. “ _Oh_. That’s, um…”

Rose spiraled into an internal panic. Where else could she go? She’d be homeless. She knew no one here, except the Doctor and Donna. It hadn’t been easy to make friends. The few times he tried, she found it difficult to keep up with the people in this era and all of their little social idiosyncrasies.

She fidgeted with the envelope, tapping it against the table and flipping the edge with her thumb. It wasn’t time to go home, she was certain of it. The trip up to the meteorite crater had to be the biggest lead yet as to why she was sent here. Perhaps it was somehow even connected to the mystery in the tunnel. She didn’t know how yet, but at least one or the other had to be why the Doctor’s granddaughter had tears in her eyes as she begged her to go back to him.

Conversely, it hadn’t really hit her before now that staying with Donna was such a comfort to her  _because_ it was temporary. If she had to find a flat, that meant signing a lease and paying bills. It meant something far more permanent, and whilst the idea of being stuck in the past wasn’t wholly unappealing, her happiness here hinged primarily on one man.

She could tolerate a longer stay, surely. It hadn’t been  _too_ difficult to adjust to living without modern technological amenities. No one else here had them either, so she just fell into sync with them eventually. Playing cards, going on walks in the park, doing the wash by hand, and filling the empty hours with sketch after sketch whilst Donna read regency romances.

But… what was her mother thinking now? Were there ‘missing’ posters plastered on every corkboard across campus? She imagined Martha freaking out, wondering where her friend had gone. Guilt and conflicting emotions tangled her insides, and she began to feel ill.

“You all right? You’ve gone pale,” Donna asked, putting a comforting hand on her wrist.

Rose startled at her touch, then sighed. “Yeah, sorry. Was just thinking I, um, I make 2 pounds per week, how can I afford a place of my own?”

Donna squinted at her, not quite believing that’s all she’d been thinking. “I wasn’t finished. I think I’ve found somewhere for you to stay.”

“Oh. That’s—that’s good.” She let out another shaky breath. “Where? Who?”

“A friend of mine. Her father owns a clothing store and textile factory, and they live in a manor about a twenty minute walk from here. She loves your sketches, especially the fantasy ones. Maidens and nymphs and such. They’d allow you to stay there in exchange for doing a bit of pattern design for them. They know you’ve already got a job at the university, so they’ll work around it. You like drawing anyway, so, thought it be fair.”

“Blimey, that’s—wait, how’d they see my drawings?’

Donna clasped her mug with both hands and looked up to the ceiling. “I, um, I might’ve shown her a few when she stopped by one day.”

Rose frowned. “Donna! You know I don’t like showing that stuff to just anyone!”

“I dunno why you’re so peculiar about it, you’re quite good. Anyway, do you want a place to live or what?”

“Yeah, yeah... Who is it?”

“Lady Reinette Poisson daughter of Lord François Poisson. You’ll like her, she’s one of the smartest women I know. She’s a part time lecturer for the French department at the university. Anyway, she’s also one of the lead clothing designers, and thinks you’ve an eye for patterns.”

Rose’s lips twisted in a wry smirk. “D’you mean ‘Jeanne?’ The woman with the hood you met up with at the suffrage rally?”

Donna gasped. Her face turned red and she rolled up the pamphlet tightly in her fist. “You mustn’t tell anyone she was there!”

“I won’t! Look, the Doctor and I ran into her as Reinette one day on campus. She asked after you, so, yeah I recognized her.”

“You knew the whole bloody time and didn’t say anything.”

Rose shrugged a shoulder.

“Okay, Sherlock. D’you want to do it or not?”

“I’ll talk to her, yeah.”

“Well that’s settled then.” Donna released the pamphlet with a smile.

The arrangement turned out to be a much better deal than searching for a flat and putting her name on a lease. It kept her anonymous, and rather busy, but that meant time sped by. It seemed she’d only just settled into the tiny room in the servant’s quarters and began her first round of sketches when she looked at the calendar to find the start of Easter break was only a week away.

But it hadn’t all gone quite so smoothly. Reinette intimidated Rose at first. She was gorgeous and clever, with a refined sense of social etiquette that made her come off rather condescending. It was hard not to compare herself to this high class lady with her prim hats and designer, hand-beaded dresses, but she did. Couldn’t help it.

They’d ride to the university together in her chauffeured car, scarcely speaking a word.  It wasn’t so much that Rose disliked her, but she just couldn’t relate to her life at all. Had no idea what to say. There had to be a point where they could connect beyond their business arrangement, and Rose would find it eventually. Donna had, after all.

Once Reinette learnt of Rose’s trip with the Doctor, she insisted on helping her put together a travelling wardrobe complete with elegant gowns and a riding dress. It was her element. Rose smiled, hoping that this could be her way in.

“There’ll be a horseback venture, of that I’m certain,” Reinette said as she lay out the matching hat. “Northern Scotland is wild, as you know. You’ll need to dress appropriately!”

“How am I gonna carry all this by myself?” Rose asked, gaping at the array of dresses and coats and accessories.

“Why, you’ll have to bring a maid, of course.”

“You going to let me borrow one of those as well?”

“I haven’t one to spare. Perhaps John can assist you.”

Rose shook her head. “I’m not gonna make him carry all this. I’ll pick out enough to fit into these two cases here.”

“Suit yourself. I doubt you’ll be able to fit the gown.” Reinette tilted her head with a little pout, rubbing the satin fabric of an opulent ball gown between her thumb and forefinger.

“I doubt I’ll need it. I’m going to an impact crater, not a royal wedding.”

“Ma foi! One should never where a gown this simple to a royal wedding!”

“Reinette…” Rose bit back a few words of endearing exasperation. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of it all.”

She smiled. “Je sais.”

 

The train station was crowded on the afternoon of the trip to northern Scotland. Rose and the Doctor waited for the train to arrive, shielded from the cacophony of an early spring storm by the glass interlaced ceiling arches overhead. Ladies and gents with fancy dress stood nearby, and unwarded children wove to and fro amongst the crowd.

“Where are the others?” Rose asked. She watched the wealthier women nearby, and smoothed out her simple, yet sophisticated travel gown that Reinette had picked out for her.

“Others? Oh, they’re arriving from all around, so we’ll meet them there. There’s a stopover in Edinburgh where I know at least one person will join, but that’ll happen in the middle of the night.”

At last the train arrived, and they boarded, teetering down the narrow aisle with their luggage. They passed through several crowded cars until they reached first class, where the aisle widened and the dark, wooden walls were fitted with detailed crown moulding. The Doctor stopped before an opened door, and gestured for her to enter.

“This is us.”

Rose entered and took in the small, yet elegant room. A fully outfitted desk, and a little table with a long, cushioned bench took up one side, while the other held a single bed stuffed into the corner, and a narrow built-in wardrobe. There was a single window with curtains in the middle, letting in the dim train station lighting.

“Blimey, this is proper luxury!”

Rose hefted her luggage onto the bench, and peered around at everything more closely. Matching watercolour paintings hung within decorated panels on the wall over the bed. Leather-bound books filled the shelves under the desk. She sat on the bed and felt the smooth, satin damask duvet.

“You know the lower class sleepers have bunk beds.”

“That they do,” the Doctor acknowledged as he closed their door, and set his luggage into the wardrobe. “But they’re far from the facilities, and here we have access to the lounge car, and room service!”

“I see you’ve got your priorities.” Rose grinned, then looked up at the wooden paneling on the ceiling. “And on the matter of it being appropriate for an unwed man and woman to share a single bed sleeper?”

“Er.” His eyes danced from the bed to the bench, then settled on Rose. “A two-bed room was rather out of my price range. I’ll take the bench. Also, I probably should mention that they think we’re mrfermd.” He mumbled the last bit under his hand as he feigned scratching above his lip.

“Huh?”

He sighed. “They think we’re, ah…married.”

“They think  _what_?” Rose stood, incredulous.

There was an infuriatingly inconvenient knock on the door, and Rose stewed as she waited for the Doctor to answer it.

“Oh, thank heavens. It’s about time!” The Doctor announced, pulling the door open. “Good day, kind sir! I’ve been looking forward to your arrival!”

The train attendant arched an eyebrow. “Ah—Good day. I’m here to check your tickets, please.”

“Oh.” The Doctor’s face fell and he searched his pockets. “Dreadfully sorry. Thought you were the tea cart. Here you are.” He produced two tickets and identification papers, which the attendant took and looked over for a moment before punching them and handing them back.

“You’re all settled, have a pleasant ride, Doctor Noble,” he canted his head to Rose. “And to you, Mrs. Noble.” He closed the door and the Doctor turned to Rose, looking like a cat caught with cream on his whiskers.

“We’re playing at being married now, are we?” asked Rose, hands folded across her chest. “Why wasn't I in on this scheme? And I seem to remember you having a bit of a struggle with the idea of us being mistaken for a couple not too long ago.”

“Wha? Um..." He cringed and rubbed the back of his head. "I had to? Worked in our favor, otherwise you'd be ten cars down with the screaming babies whilst I dine on filet and buttered parsnips.”

Rose huffed and tore her gaze away. “Right.”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you agree? I had to give them our names and papers, so they’d’ve known. Otherwise it’d be rather conspicuous. Granted, we’re not lord and lady, so the unseemly nature of this arrangement doesn’t matter as much to complete strangers. Still, I simply won’t allow for people to think unkind things of you.”

Rose’s mood softened, but she still couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that bloody ridiculous mind of his. Acting flustered about the very notion of being mistaken as her husband, and now using it to his advantage. Did he or did he not still see her as a student? His behaviour on that note had definitely shifted. She recalled the odd way he responded to her when he put it together that in her time, she was a student at the very same university. Yet now he’s doodling pictures of her and letting her sleep in his bed!

“Rose?” he said, somewhat meek.

“What?” she said, a bit too harshly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t consult you, but you weren’t there when I had to make travel arrangements.”

Rose let out a heavy sigh. “No, yeah, you’ve done the right thing. Thank you.” She looked down at her feet, and noticed that the silver pattern along the hemline of her dress had a pull in the stitching. It somehow made her feel even more like a fraud.

“It’s just… you seemed bothered before by it, you know, ‘cos you being a professor and me being a student. D’you still feel, I dunno, weird?”

The Doctor’s brows met. “Huh, I’d nearly forgotten about that.”

 _Oh, good one, Rose._ Maybe she should go bury herself under the duvet for the entire trip. “Sorry to remind you, then.”

“I suppose it mattered less the more I’ve gotten to know you. Seems a silly thing to be caught up about, don’t you agree? You’re not a student  _here._  You’re my astute and delightful assistant. You’re a grown woman, and you’re my friend. I daresay you’re more like my companion than my coworker.”

Rose warmed even further, a light, airy feeling sweeping out from her chest and down her limbs to replace the uneasiness. “Yeah?”

“Without question.”

She grazed her tongue along her teeth as she smiled. “Good.”

The train whistle blared, signaling departure, and they settled into their cozy room. Rose hung her dresses, and the Doctor spread out his research on the desk. Within an hour, the Doctor became antsy that the tea cart hadn’t stopped by, and so they headed down to the lounge for a late evening meal.

They lingered long after their meal was over, enjoying the live piano and accompanying vocalist. The stopover came and went as well, and the lounge was soon full to the brim with mingling passengers.

Rose, feeling giddy from the wine, stood and coaxed the Doctor to dance with her. Others had taken to the small floor, and she’d grown a bit tired of sitting whilst he went on and on about the origin of the specific pastry they’d been served, or the story behind the songs being sung.

“Oh, no. I’d rather not.”

Rose smiled, swaying to the music. “Come on, show me the foxtrot again? What was it… quick-slow-quick?”

“No, no. It’s promenade slow, slow and then quick, quick. See?” He pointed to a nearby couple who were doing the very dance in question. “Watch that pair.”

Rose groaned. “Fine, I’ll…” She peered around and spotted a fit young man with a glass of scotch sitting alone by a window. “I’ll go see if that gent over there’ll dance with me.”

The Doctor followed her line of sight, then made a face. “ _Him?_ Surely you can do better than that.”

“Oh, I dunno. He’s quite handsome.”

“Well, then, don’t let me stop you.” He stood, expression gone quite blank save for the deep dimples in his jaw that Rose had come to associate with his darker moods. “I’ve got a lot of preparation to do anyway.”

“Wait, Doctor, I—”

The Doctor canted his head to her. “Good night, Rose.” He slipped away through the narrow dancefloor, and out of the lounge car all together.

Rose stared after him, bewildered and no longer interested in dancing in the slightest. She sat down at their table and listened to the next song as she finished her glass of wine.  A man nearby lit up a pipe, and the pungent aroma of tobacco wafted over to her, making the alcohol in her stomach turn sour. The second the pianist struck up a lively, irritating tune, she bolted for the exit and headed back to the room.

All things considered, she probably had just made some silly social faux pas, but she couldn’t recall that it had happened much between them before. She knocked on the door, and breathed a sigh of relief when he answered right away.

“How was your dance?” he asked, not once looking at her as she entered. He returned to his work and continued writing where he’d left off, finger pointing to a line of text in an opened book.

“I didn’t dance.”

He stopped writing and paused before answering. “Oh, well, you should’ve. He’d have been chuffed I’m sure.”

“I didn’t really want to dance with him.”

He finally looked at her in confusion. “But, you were attracted to him, and he was clearly alone.”

Rose laughed. “Are you lot not familiar with that trick? I wanted to dance with you. Asked you first, didn’t I? He was incentive.”

The Doctor’s brows furrowed, then popped up. “Oh! You’re trying to make me jealous!” He smirked. “That little game is as old as time, Rose Tyler. I’ve just never had it played on me before.”

“M’sorry I stooped so low,” she said, biting her lip.

“I suppose I can forgive you this once.”

“Ta.” She smiled. “Blimey, I’m knackered.” She pulled the combs and pins out of her hair, and set them on the little end table between the foot of the bed and the wardrobe. The braid that had been tucked under fell free, and she untied the band from the end so she could run her fingers through the resulting waves.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to my hair being this long. Haven’t cut it since I got here.”

The Doctor pushed away from the desk and darted over to his luggage. “I’ll, uhm.” He swallowed. “I’ll leave so you can prepare for bed.” He searched around in the cabinet till he found the ‘ _do not disturb_ _’_ placard. “I’ll hang this on the door for you. Take it down once you’re decent, and I’ll come back.”

“Oh, ’kay.”

He grabbed one last item from his luggage, and hurried out of the room.

Rose blinked at his abrupt departure, but was too eager to remove the smoke and booze-scented gown to think on it too long.

Once swathed in the soft cotton nightgown, she removed the placard from outside of the door, and slipped under the duvet. She drifted off to sleep to the rhythmic clack-and-sway of the train before the Doctor ever returned.

 

The sound of something falling to the floor woke Rose with a start. It was dark, and the clock on the end table read a few minutes past three in the morning. She sat up, disorientated, and saw the Doctor sprawled inelegantly on the bench that was barely half his length, glasses askew on his face and mouth hanging open in slumber. His arm had evidently fallen from his chest to dangle off the side, and the source of the clatter lay below his fingers—the screwdriver. A book rested open over his stomach, and slipped a little when the train jostled over an uneven bit of track.

Rose moved the duvet aside and stretched across, hoping to catch the book before it fell, but was too late. It landed with a loud thud, and the Doctor shot up with a snort.

“Wha—ahhh!” He winced and rubbed his shoulder under the collar of his pyjama top, then peered at her through the dim moonlight from the window. “Rose?”

“Sorry. Tried to catch it,” Rose whispered.

“Crickey, I feel like I’m—ooow—sleeping on a pile of rubble.” His face pinched with discomfort as he stretched out his legs.

Rose’s neck ached just looking at him. “D’you wanna switch for the rest if the night? I’d probably fit better on that bench.”

“No, no. You stay right where you are.” He searched the floor for his screwdriver, and leaned forward to place it on the desk. “I’ve slept on an actual pile of rubble before, which was only slightly worse than this, so I’ll be all right.”

Rose studied the bed on which she slept. “You can join me if you like.”

“I beg your pardon?”

 _Shit. Bad idea._ “Nevermind.” She lay back down and pulled the duvet over herself. “Forget that, please.”

“I honestly don’t think I could.”

“Just thought maybe if you want a few hours of actual rest, you can lay here on top of the blankets. There’s enough room.”

He didn’t respond for so long that she assumed he fell back asleep, so she tried to as well, but it was impossible with the way her stomach kept twisting.

“Rose,” he said at last, voice grainy and deep.

“Yeah?”

“Someday you’ll want to go back.”

She turned to face him, sheets sliding noisily over her body. “Go back?”

He sat, bent forward on the bench with his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands tangled in his hair. After a soft exhale, he looked up. “Home. You must miss your family.”

“I—” she began, but her throat had gone terribly dry and her eyes quite the opposite. She let the wave of emotion pass over before she continued. “I do miss them, but I want to be here as long as I can. I haven’t even figured out why I was told to come here, and… you’re here.”

He met her gaze across the narrow room, the shadows around his face making him appear both ancient and young. “You probably won’t know till after it happens.” He winced again as he attempted to resettle on his back. He folded his arms behind his head and propped his feet up on the desk. “I think I’ll stay here, but thank you for the generous offer.”

“Suit yourself.” She snuggled into the duvet, heart heavy but not wanting to let it on. “Mmm, so comfy.”

“I bet the thread count is in the thousands,” he murmured, eyes fixated on the ceiling.

Rose ran her thumb along the pillowcase, and forced her eyes closed. “Goodnight, Doctor.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for lauraxxtennant for the readthrough and encouragement! I have never been to Scotland so I spent a really long time studying maps and historical info on this area, so hopefully the info is sound. There's also a little bit of School Reunion influence in this chapter. Thanks for reading!

The train arrived at Inverness station in the quiet, early morning hours.  Rose, outfitted in her riding dress in preparation for the day’s events, stole a final glance around their room. What had before seemed so enchanting and resplendent, now weighed her down. All anticipation for the journey ahead had been snuffed, and it felt like the room itself knew the heaviness in her heart. He held back because he might lose her someday. It only made her love him more.

They deboarded the train, and Rose followed the Doctor to another platform where they stood in stilted conversation as they awaited the train to Garve. It was still proper early. Fog lingered in the distance, the sun’s creeping rays having not yet burnt it away.

At last, the train pulled in, and they shuffled aboard the smaller passenger carriage. Within minutes, they were on the way to Garve.

Rose had never before been so far north. It was noticeably cooler, and the vast wilderness made her feel like she was on another world. Hill after hill, pasture after pasture. A loch here and there. It all went on forever. She would’ve been bored, except the entire side of the Doctor’s body was pressed against the entire side of her body thanks to their row’s third occupant—an elderly woman clinging to the conservative, bulky Victorian style of her formative years.

Rose tried to focus on the landscape unfolding along the tracks, but the Doctor was so warm, and close. Smelling sweet and woodsy like his blankets had. Not to mention, every time she shifted, their hands would brush. She’d feel the hairs on the back of his hand against her wrist, and if it happened one more time she might just have to thread their fingers together. But that couldn’t happen. Not if he had this boundary laid out before them. She hated it more now that it’d been acknowledged, and her mind formed a coalition of reasons why they shouldn’t care as her eyes shifted focus to gaze at the reflection of his profile in the window.

“We’ll take a hackney to Ullapool, and from there, we’ll meet the others at the Rothay lodge,” said the Doctor abruptly, shifting in the seat. She wondered if he shared her torment.  “They should have ponies prepared, so we’ll ride out to the excavation site after tea.”

She knew. He’d already explained their itinerary as they packed up their things on the other train. “You mentioned. Remember? Said I’ve never ridden a horse.”

“Oh—yes. Well, these aren’t horses, Rose. I’m fairly certain they’ll be Highland ponies.”

“Massive beasts with hooves, either way.”

“Don’t fret, the ponies are sturdy and used to trekking, you’ll be safe.” He sniffed. “Me on the other hand, I’m quite excellent at riding, so you can follow.”

“Oh, thanks. So there’s nothing you can’t do, is that it?” Rose gave him a coy smile over her shoulder as she bit her thumbnail.

“I’m rubbish at American baseball. Cricket, now that’s a sport. Used to play in a pitch we made in an empty lot after a nearby secondary school donated the equipment. I’m quite good.”

Rose laughed.

“What’s so funny? In another life I could’ve been a professional.”

“Just imagining you with those giant leg guards.”

“As you should. One mustn’t skimp on protective gear. Take for instance the enormous gloves. Also essential to keep one’s hands from stinging when catching a ball.”

His serious tone made her giggle more. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I promise.”

“Is there someone else here making you laugh, then?”

She pursed her lips to keep from giggling. “No."

His mouth twisted in a sideways smirk. “Good. When we get back, I’ll put on the whole outfit and prove it to you.”

“Yes!” Tears prickled her eyes. “Can’t promise I won’t laugh, though.”

He smiled at her. “But then what would be the point?”

His words derailed her mirth and made her skin tingle. Feeling timid, she moved to tuck her hair behind her ear, forgetting it was up in a bandeaux. She instead ran her fingertip along the ruffle of fabric by her ear. “So, um… how long till we’re in Garve?”

“Should only be another half hour.”

“Thank god. I’m starving.”

The conversation lapsed, and she became fidgety. She gripped her skirt to still her fingers, and let her gaze wander back to the window to watch a long line of fence that draped across the highlands. It lulled her into a relaxed state, and her hand drifted, accidentally brushing the back of his yet again. To her surprise, he shifted his arm, allowing hers to slip over his so that their arms were linked.

Rose looked over at him, bemused.

“All right?” he asked. “Since there’s no room.”

She nodded, settling her fingers upon his forearm. “More than.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, his cheeks tinged pink.

“Ye two make a lovely pair,” remarked the older woman sharing a seat with them. “I miss my husband listenin’ t’ye.”

Rose had nearly forgotten she was there. She also wasn’t sure what was louder, her heart or the train. She opened her mouth to respond, but the Doctor beat her to it.

“I’m sorry for your loss, madam.”

 

It was late-morning by the time they arrived in Ullapool. The hackney dropped them off in the gravel drive of the Rothay Lodge, and they were ushered to the garden and seated at a long, and otherwise empty, wooden table.

A lodge footman came over with platters, and another to serve tea, before retreating to their stations by a climbing yellow rose bush.

The Doctor removed the lid to his platter. “Aha! Croque-monsieur; they know we’re hungry. Odd thing to have in one’s tea garden, but I shan’t complain.”

“No complaints from me.” Rose leaned over after opening her patter, and breathed in the warm brioche and smoked ham. She picked up half of the sandwich and took a hearty bite. It was so rich she could barely keep from rolling back her eyes. “Oh, god. This is gorgeous.”

“Mmm. Thank the French. Funny how we so loathe them, but our entire upper echelon can’t be bothered to have menus printed in anything but. Can't say I blame them. You know which country has the best breakfast, though? Venezuela. Arepas with butter and various meats, cheese, eggs. Avocado! Ever had an avocado, Rose?” The Doctor merrily picked up his utensils and began to serve himself a bite, cutting into the toasted bread and melted cheese that lay beneath the layer of béchamel.

She cringed, noticing that he hadn’t picked it up as she had. She put hers down and cleaned the buttery crumbs off of her hands with a napkin. “Yeah, they’re put in everything now. I had it in a smoothie once.”

“What’s a smoothie?”

“It’s a…” She furrowed her brows over the rim of her teacup. “Where’s everyone else? Thought you said there’d be a whole team.”

“I dunno. Pass the jam if you would please.”

“Johnny boy!” A familiar voice announced from the garden entrance. A familiar  _American_  voice.

The Doctor looked up, food poised to enter his mouth. His eyebrow shot up to his hairline. “…Jack?”

“Glad you and your gorgeous assistant could make it.” Jack gave Rose a disarming smile as he approached.

Rose returned the smile. “Hello.”

“What’re you doing here?” the Doctor quipped, lowering his fork.

Jack sat at the table and unfolded a napkin, placing it into his lap. “I’m the one who invited you.” He grabbed a little pastry and popped the whole thing into his mouth.

“What?” The Doctor leaned forward. “ _What_? Hang on, what’ve you got to do with this?”

“Not as much as it seems. Sorry for the cloak and dagger, but couldn’t have too many people aware of what’s going on.”

“And just what is going on? There’s a meteorite, is there not?”

“There is, but there's more to it than that.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “Hang on, this doesn’t have anything to do with that ridiculous conspiracy organisation you joined, does it? What’s it called again? Can’t seem to get anywhere in my time travel research without one of you lot interfering. I came all the way out here—”

“Easy, John.” Jack put up his hands. “I’ll explain everything when we get there. It’s about a two hour trek out, so eat up. Your things’ll be delivered later this evening with the supply carriage.” He waved off the footman who attempted to pour him tea, then added. “Sarah Jane’s already at the stables.”

There was a long pause. “Sarah’s here?”

Something shifted in the Doctor’s expression as incredulity gave way to that sort of look one gets when they hear a name they hadn’t heard in years. A name belonging to someone of whom they’re immensely fond. Rose’s face grew hot, and she looked down at her plate to move a bit of crust around with a spoon.

“I knew you’d change your mind when you heard her name.”

“What has she got to do with any of this?” the Doctor asked, but the edge was gone from his voice.

“She’s like you, someone they trust. There’s no one else coming, by the way.”

“Ugh. I’ve lost my appetite,” said the Doctor, standing. “Rose, take your time.” He swiped the jam jar and stuffed it into his pocket as he began to walk off. He paused by a bed of fluffy pink peonies and looked around. “Er—which way to the stables?”

Jack sighed. “Through the garden that way, and down the path. You’ll see it from there.”

The Doctor continued on to the stables, leaving Rose alone with the strange American.

“Who’s Sarah Jane?” Rose asked after chewing a large bite of the pretentious breakfast sandwich. She tried not to sound like she hated the very idea of this woman before she ever met her, but she suspected that she failed with the way Jack smirked and shook his head.

“I’ll let him tell you.”

Well that didn’t help things at all. Her heart raced; she was teetering on the top of a rollercoaster, about to careen down to earth at a moment’s notice. Unlike the Doctor, negative emotions made her want to stuff her mouth with more food, so she sat in silence as she finished the stupid delicious meal.

Once she’d freshened up in the ladies, Jack escorted her to the stable, where the Doctor and a woman were immersed in conversation from atop their respective steeds. A smaller pony grazed the grass by the drive, its lead stretching out from the Doctor’s hand.

As Rose approached the Doctor and the woman she presumed to be Sarah Jane, she overheard bits of their conversation.

“I waited for you, John. I missed you,” said the woman.

“Ah, you didn’t need me. You’d gotten on with your life,” the Doctor replied.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

“I couldn’t.”

Rose stomach dropped with dread. Her mind filled with all manner of scenarios that’d bring them to have such a conversation, and each one made her want to turn around and go straight back home. Before they could carry on, her foot scuffed against the gravel, alerting them to her approach. They turned to face her in unison.

Sarah Jane looked about the same age as the Doctor—mid thirties, and pretty, with chestnut hair up in a riding cap. She tilted her head with a thin smile.  “Ah, is this your new assistant?” she said to the Doctor, not bothering to whisper. “I can tell you’re getting older. They’re getting younger.”

Rose stiffened as a numbness spread throughout her limbs. “’M not his assistant.”

“Oh?” Sarah Jane’s brows met in genuine confusion. “My apologies. John, you said—”

“Erm, Rose! I’ve got your pony prepared.” The Doctor interrupted, and guided the animal over by its tether. “She’s very gentle and knows the way, so you’re in safe, er, hooves.”

Rose inhaled at the sight of the stocky creature. “That’s a pony? Blimey, it's massive! Thought they were small!”

“I’ll help you up,” offered Jack.

Rose exchanged a dubious glance with Sarah Jane as she walked over to the tawny pony. Jack hoisted her up, and tightened her straps. After demonstrating how to hold on, he disappeared to fetch his own mount.

“Haven’t ridden before, have you, dear?” asked Sarah Jane.

“No, can’t say I have,” Rose replied with an edge, despising the woman’s condescending tone. “Bet you’re really experienced at your age.”

Sarah Jane scowled at that and gathered up the reins. “I’ll meet you at the head of the trail, John.”

Rose watched Sarah Jane until she’d ridden beyond the stable gate, then glanced at the Doctor. He was staring at her oddly, making her stomach lurch. Before she could comment, the pony moved under her. She reflexively grabbed the saddle horn tighter with a yelp.

“Oh, god!”

The Doctor’s cagy expression dissolved into a smile as he reached out to offer his arm to brace against. “All right, Rose?”

She ignored it. “Oh, yeah, this is—ahhh—this is… no, oh god. M’not okay! It moves!”

The Doctor moved closer. “Easy, that’s it. See? Just hold on there and you’ll be fine.”

Rose grasped the pony’s neck, feeling its strength beneath the flowing mane. It helped ground her, and she felt her heartbeat slowing down. After a moment, she smiled.

“That’s it,” said the Doctor.

Rose gently caressed the silvery mane and the pony whinnied. “S’not so bad.”

“You’re a natural.”

She smiled on impulse. The affection in his voice made her heart flutter, and she almost forgot about Sarah Jane for the moment. But it was too late. The worry had been planted, and it grew with every breath into a desperate question that she  _knew_ she shouldn’t ask. She should just swallow it down and wait until a better time. Was it any of her business, anyway?

Jack emerged from the stable and hesitated, seeing the two of them conversing. “We’ll wait for you at the trail. Hurry it up,” he said, and guided his pony around the stable the way Sarah Jane had gone.

“Ready to go?” The Doctor turned his pony in the direction they were to head.

“Who is she?” Rose blurted, ignoring her own advice.

He pursed his lips together before responding. “An old friend of mine. Used to assist me, much like you do now.”

“Had many of us then, have you? Assistants?”

“I… Does it matter?” He scratched the back of his head.

“Thought I—” She sighed. “Well it matters if I’m just another in a long line.”

“As opposed to what? Rose, plenty of professors have assistants of some kind. Research assistants, associate professors, assistant lecturers…”

“No, but you—you said—thought there was something more between us. That I wasn’t just… Maybe I got it wrong.”

A deep dimple formed in his jaw as he glared at her. “No.”

“No what?”

His eyes slid away as he sighed. “Rose, she was a friend of mine at the orphanage. I was a young lad, working on my first doctorate, and she’d assist me with my accelerated coursework. Well, I say assist, but it was more like she’d spend time with me whilst I studied and worked on my assignments. She’d help sometimes, but anyway… her friendship is what made me realise I work better with company. I left the orphanage to go to university, and she found a job at a newspaper. Eventually, I transferred to Harvard and never saw her again.”

There was the guilt, creeping in. Childhood friends. That didn’t mean anything, did it? She looked down and chewed on her lower lip. “Ah.”

“You haven’t gotten things wrong, by the way.”

Rose looked up, hope expanding in her chest. “Yeah?”

His eyes were warm and soft, but he didn’t smile. “Let’s go; they’re waiting.”

They joined Jack and Sarah Jane, and rode out to the excavation site, starting off on a trail through the woods behind the manor. The forest eventually thinned and the trail faded as the terrain grew steeper and steeper. Loch Broom flowed by them to the west, and they followed along its bank from the hills for a while before they turned off and headed in a more direct northerly path.

Rose took to riding swiftly, and before long, she thrilled at the feel of the soft breeze against her face as her pony cantered alongside the Doctor’s when they reached an open glen.

They were led across hills and by steep crags, only stopping for a brief break, until at last they arrived to an area of weathered grassland and heather that dipped inward towards the shore.

There, they rode through the small encampment and reached a hitching post, where someone met them to help with the ponies. Rose scanned the tents as she waited to dismount. There were no insignia or flags or markings of any kind to identify the camp, but it didn’t strike Rose as too peculiar. They were just a bunch of scientists.  What was strange, however, were the uniformed men standing guard throughout the campsite.

“They’re gonna tell us what’s going on now, yeah?” asked Rose, watching the Doctor dismount. “Probably too late to ask if you trust  _him._ ” She tilted her head towards Jack.

“They had better. But lucky for them I’ve got an insatiable curiosity.” He reached up for her. “Grab my shoulders, I’ll help you down.”

Rose did so, holding onto his upper arms as he guided her to the earth.

“See? Wasn’t so bad.” His smile deepened, hands still tight around her waist.

“I loved it.” She smiled right back.

Though  _he_  seemed over the earlier tension, it still lay in the pit of her stomach. The ride had consumed all of her focus, but now that her feet were on the ground, the anxious twist returned.

He released her, and turned away to follow the others as they were taken to a wide open tent amid a cluster of smaller, personal tents. Inside, there were tables and chairs, scientific tools and crates. A few people milled about, some eating and others working.

Jack took them to a desk in the back of the tent, where a man in a suit stood looking over a map of the area. He slid a marker into place and held his chin in thought, reminding Rose of those battle strategy scenes in boring historical movies.

“Hello Doctor Noble, Miss Smith,” the man at the map said to them in turn. “And you must be Rose Tyler.”

Rose inhaled, lifting her chin. “That’s me.”

“You’re Ianto Jones. We met, remember? The university Christmas party,” said the Doctor as he shook the man’s hand.

“Yes, that’s right.” Ianto gave a sort of uncomfortable smile.

“You’re the one in charge?” asked Sarah Jane.

“Um. An appointed lead in this investigation, yes,” he said.

The Doctor eyed Jack with a raised eyebrow. “So, investigation, you say? What sort of investigation? This  _clearly_ has nothing to do with the International Astronomy Research Guild.” He held up the official letter he’d fished from one of his coat pockets. “I’m a long-standing member, I’ll have you know.”

“Er, not officially,” answered Jack. “Sorry, we had to use that as a cover. We’re here representing the Torchwood Institute—”

Rose reached out for the Doctor, her ears ringing at the sound of that word.

“—private investigative branch of the guild formed to handle what the university determines to be events of a more unexplained and potentially dangerous nature.”

The Doctor steadied Rose, grasping her by the elbow and pulling her closer. He leaned in and whispered, “It’s the twenty-first of March. Easter Sunday is in two days. You’re here with me in good ol’ nineteen-thirteen.”

Rose closed her eyes, his voice making gooseflesh rise on her arms. Her head spun, but she held her ground.

“Do we need to walk elsewhere?” he asked, even closer.

“’M okay,” she whispered back. “He said—”

“I know.” The Doctor furrowed his brow and tucked his hands into his pockets. “We’ll talk later.”

“Something the matter?” asked Ianto.

“Nope!” said the Doctor. “Well,” he cocked his head, “I love a good mystery same as anyone, but I think that’s enough introduction. I’m ready to have things laid bare, if you don’t mind.”

“All right. Here’s the deal,” Jack began. He gestured to the map of the area, where a plot of land was marked with a chess rook. “Something crashed here during the last full moon. Whatever it was broke apart into scores of little green shards on impact. And—now this may be completely unrelated—but we have eye witness reports from the locals, and many claim that there’ve been odd illnesses going around ever since the crash. Now here’s where it gets weird—”

“As if it’s not already,” remarked Sarah Jane.

“You’re telling me,” said Ianto. “Come along.”

Ianto led them to another table, upon which sat a small glass dome that held several samples of the green stones. “This is the substance that we found around the crash site. We’re still running tests on what it’s made of, but as far as we can tell, it’s unlike any material we’ve seen before. Also, possibly unstable.”

“Hence the glass dome,” added Jack.

Rose stood back with Sarah Jane, not wanting to get close to anything that’d just been described as unstable.

The Doctor slid on his specs and leaned in to get a closer look. He hummed, hands splayed on the glass. “Oh, you’re gorgeous, you are. Each of you,” he murmured to himself as he opened the dome, and placed his screwdriver against one of the stones.

Everyone took a large step back.

The Doctor scrutinized the screwdriver, watching how the light on top shifted to a green colour. “Yes, you’ll definitely want to keep it under that dome, though that’ll only dampen it a bit, not block it completely.”

“What the hell is it?” asked Jack.

“I have no idea. Isn’t that fascinating?” He grinned.

Rose stared at the light atop the Doctor’s screwdriver, haunted by the name of her father’s business appearing in this time. Maybe it was a coincidence. Had to be. There were plenty of companies with the same names.

“So it’s just some green rock from space. Why all the guards?” asked Sarah Jane.

“That has more to do with what happened before it crashed.” Ianto waved them over to another table upon which was a stack of folders. He opened one and handed the contents to Sarah Jane.

Sarah Jane skimmed it over and passed it on to the Doctor. “Astrophysicist speak. You’d make better sense of this than me. Something about a disappearing asteroid.”

The Doctor shrugged and read over the documents, his eyes darting back and forth across the page. “Interesting. See this?” He pointed to something on the page and Sarah Jane leaned in.

“I don’t—Oh! I see it now.”

“Knew you would, Sarah.” He smiled proudly at her.

She moved closer to him. “That is strange. What do you make of it?”

“I’ll have to read over the other reports, and take a look at that meteorite to be certain, but I think intelligent life has to be behind this.”

Sarah Jane put her hand on his arm. “Oh! But that’s what you always wanted! To find evidence of intelligent life… you’d talk about that for hours!”

“Well, and time travel.”

“Don’t get too greedy.” She laughed.

“Oh no, I’ve almost got that one figured out!”

“You’re having me on!”

“Not at all.” He smiled over to Rose.

Rose looked away from them, pretending to be more interested in the trampled heather and footworn soil that made the floor of the shelter. She tried not to imagine the woman who gave her the pocket watch—Mrs. Foreman—whether her face bared a resemblance to a combination of the Doctor and Sarah Jane. She’d said the Doctor was her grandfather, and that didn’t necessarily mean…

The Doctor and Sarah Jane laughed.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Mind filling the rest of us in?” She was fully aware that she sounded perturbed, but she was too perturbed to care.

“Oh, sorry.” The Doctor sniffed. “They were tracking the approach of an asteroid that would appear to skip through space. So it’d disappear and reappear in a clearly discernable pattern. As it neared earth, it vanished. When it reappeared, it had already passed by, but that’s when the meteor entered the atmosphere.”

“Huh,” said Rose, a lot more intrigued than she thought she’d be.

“So, when can we see the meteorite?” asked the Doctor.

“Straight away,” said Ianto.

They walked a short distance from the campsite to the edge of the crater, which was a lot smaller than Rose had imagined. About the size of her mum’s old flat, give or take. In the centre was a football-sized, spiky chunk of green stone with dozens of shards of the same material scattered all around.

“Stay back. Those green bits are everywhere,” said Jack.

Ianto came to stand next to Jack.  “We’ve got most of the earth cleared away so we can begin extracting it tomorrow. The supply carriage should be here soon with the harness we need to rig to the ponies.”

The Doctor leaned over to get a closer look at the meteorite, hands hovering reverently, but not touching.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered to himself. “Something shimmering on the surface. Looks like…” He stood up straight. “Right, we should, erm… Rose, come with me for a moment.” He turned and walked back towards the camp, motioning for Rose to follow.

Rose gave a shrug and a cheeky smile to the others, before dashing off to follow him. “What is it?”

“Remember when I showed you the crystals growing in the lab?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“They were synthetic crystals, obviously. And I bet a simple refractive index test would reveal that the meteorite is synthetic as well.”

“So you’re saying that meteorite was grown in a lab?”

“Precisely. Or, well, manufactured by unnatural means.”

“But it’s not a crystal, is it? Looks like solid stone.”

“It’s got crystal infused throughout the ore. That shimmery surface, like oil on water…not like any meteorite I’ve ever seen.” He stopped walking and faced her. “Think it’s best if we keep certain bits of information to ourselves. They’ll no doubt extract the meteorite and take it somewhere after I’m finished inspecting it, so I want to have the upper hand despite that.”

“What about telling Sarah Jane?”

“Nah, she’s a journalist, and a damn good one.”  He squinted over the horizon. “I have to keep some truth up my sleeve.”

“Your sleeve is my sleeve.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Good.”

Rose’s heart skipped a beat.

They returned to the main shelter with the others to read through the rest of the documents and ask a few more questions. Shortly thereafter, the supply carriage arrived, and their luggage was brought to their respective tents. Rose was assigned to share a tent with Sarah Jane, as they were the only women on the team.

The Doctor had whinged loudly enough to get his own tent so that he could spread out his work on a little desk within. Rose helped him set it up after the evening meal, and then reluctantly returned to her tent with a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

Within, she found Sarah Jane sitting on her cot writing in a journal; she looked up over the edge of the book.

“So what do you make of it?” she asked.

“And hello to you.” Rose hoisted her luggage up onto her cot and began to rummage inside for bedclothes. “Which bit? The meteorite or the secret organization?”

“All of it. I think they’re making it more suspicious than it would’ve been if we just left it, don’t you agree?”

Rose raised her eyebrows and nodded absently, her back still to Sarah Jane. She searched deeper into the case until her hand brushed against a wooden box.

“I’m here as a stringer, you know. They allowed me to be here after they learnt that I knew too much about their little institute.”

“Ah, trying to keep you under their thumb,” Rose said, pulling the box from under a folded shawl.

“I’ll let them believe that. What does John think?”

“John?” Rose tilted her head, pushing up a latch on the box with her thumb. She pried it open and stared at the contents.

“Um, Doctor John Noble… yes… Though you may refer to him as professor.”

“Sorry, he prefers to be called just ‘the Doctor.’ S’a habit, forgetting his—oh my god!”

“What? What is it?”

Rose snapped the lid shut and covered her mouth with her hands. She was one hundred percent certain that there was a diaphragm in the box. An Edwardian version, but it absolutely bore resemblance to a particular contraceptive. Had to be! She covertly opened the lid again and a letter fell down from where it had been wedged within.

“Are you all right, love?”

“Um, yeah,” Rose said, sheepish. She opened the letter, mouth twisting as she tried not to die from embarrassment.

 _Ma ch_   _ère Rose,_

_For possibilities._

_Amiti_   _és,  
Jeanne_

“You cheeky, posh—huh?” Rose’s face heated up and she stuffed the letter away into the box. “Were you saying something?” She pulled out the shawl, covered up the box with a ridiculous number of garments, and then latched the luggage.

“You were saying he’s calling himself the Doctor now,” said Sarah Jane.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” She wrapped the shawl around herself, and sat on the cot next to her luggage, grinning to herself. “Sorry.”

“What’s so funny?”

Rose rubbed her hand over her face to compose herself, then fidgeted with her earring. “Um, I just realised I packed a pair of men’s underwear. Must have been mixed up in the laundry.”

Sarah Jane chuckled, and went back to writing. “Does that mean some poor fellow has your knickers?”

Rose laughed, both to relieve her amusement of the discovery and at Sarah Jane’s comment.

The other woman smiled. “So, what does—oh! I remember now!” She sat forward. “He wanted to be called the Doctor. Is that what he meant? I teased him once that he’d have every doctorate offered someday. He’d just say, ‘you watch Sarah, they’ll all call me the Doctor.’”

Rose bit her lower lip, that weird feeling returning. “You were in the orphanage with him, yeah?”

“Yes. We lived in separate dormitories, but he was always in the library. That’s where I first ran into him.” She stared off at nothing in particular. “Feels like ages ago.”

“You were close.”

“Thought at the time we were closer, but then he went off and, well.” She sighed and picked up her journal.

“So he what, just grew up and disappeared?”

“A bit like that, yes. He left the orphanage to live at Linvale when he was eighteen. That’s when he was on doctorate number two. I saw him a few times, but then one day he transferred to Harvard.”

“Blimey.”

“Yes, well, never heard from him again after that.”

Rose picked at the knitted pattern on the shawl, looking away from her. “Did you know Donna?”

“Not so well as him. I had her send him a letter for me once. Never heard back.”

“Maybe he didn’t get it. It doesn’t seem like him to just—”

Rose stiffened, her breath hitching. It  _was_ just like him to disappear without a word. She recalled what happened after Christmas. How he’d left for a fortnight and acted as though it hadn’t been a big deal. If he didn’t have to lecture, would he have even returned? She looped a fallen strand of hair behind her ear to busy her shaky hand.

Maybe Reinette was in on some cruel joke.  _Possibilities my arse._  Sarah Jane must’ve been in love with him, and he broke her heart.

“It’s all right. I went on with life,” Sarah Jane said, almost in answer to Rose’s unspoken thought.

“H-how do you know Jack?” She had to change the subject before she became ill.

“Everyone knows Jack.” Sarah Jane chuckled, and was about to explain when there was a light smacking sound against the tent near Rose’s cot.

Both women looked towards the sound, puzzled. There was another, and another, and another as Rose stood, mouthing to Sarah Jane that she’d be back. She peered outside of the tent and saw the Doctor there, wearing his long coat and holding a handful of rocks.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to get your attention, obviously. Hey, it worked!” He grinned and dropped the rocks, brushing the dirt from his hands.

She burrowed further into the shawl, and looked at him pointedly. “What d’you need?”

“Fancy a stroll?” He looked around the camp, and sniffed. “Not here, of course.”

Rose glanced up at the swiftly darkening sky, and then across to the silhouette of mountains in the distance. “Out there?”

“Oh, yes!”

She smiled, her worries slipping away with the colours of the sunset at the idea of being alone with him. “Reckon I do fancy a stroll.”

They wandered off into the nearby glen, trudging across spongy soil and past snagging shrubs, till they reached a small stream. They followed along its mossy banks towards the shore of a loch where they stopped to stare up at the vast twilit sky.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stars,” Rose said to herself, brushing bracken from her skirt.

“Oh, just wait an hour.”

“We gonna be out here that long? It’s bloody freezing.”

The Doctor kept his eyes up at the sky. “Tell me of your step father’s business again?”

“Oh. Um… well It’s research and technology. They’ve got loads of scientists, do all kinds of experiments and invent things.”

“Do you know much about its history?”

She shook her head. “Never asked.”

The Doctor hummed in thought. “You said you were sent back to find me by someone. Who was it?”

“Sure you wanna know?”

“There’s a big puzzle in my head, Rose, and I’m trying to fit all the pieces in. Maybe it’s a corner piece, maybe it’s from an entirely different puzzle.”

“Could just say yes like any other bloke.” Rose grinned and bumped her shoulder against his.

He tisked. “I’m not like other, er, blokes.”

“That’s what they all say.”

He was right, though; he wasn’t. Not in the slightest. Rose stared ahead, watching as little glowing eyes blinked across the loch. It made her shiver, imagining it as a wolf stalking through the flora that skirted the lake’s shore. It moved into a sheaf of moonlight at last. A deer. She sighed, feeling silly.

“Are you going to tell me or shall I guess?” he prompted.

“Oh, um. She told me to go back to you. Didn’t say much else.”

“Did you look into her at all? How did she know me?”

“You said you didn’t want to know the future.” She chewed her thumbnail, her stomach a tangle of knots.

“Oh, well, in that case.”

He was quiet for some time, rubbing his brow and scratching his chin.

“You all right, Doctor?”

“Fit as a fiddle! Right as rain.” He forced a smile. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. There’s just one thing I don’t understand. Why send you back to me? Was it to change events? To stop someone else from changing events? To fix something she thought had gone wrong? But why  _you_ of all people?”

“Oi!”

“Well, think about it.”

“Believe me, I have,” Rose said with a humorless chuckle.

“You obviously have a tie to the Torchwood of your time, and here we are dealing with the Torchwood of this time. There we have it! Something must happen, something to do with Torchwood, which veers off in a bad way. You had to be the one sent back in time because… because—” He groaned, then peered at her. “Sorry, probably shouldn’t speak that name so freely.”

“Think I’m used to it now.” She blew a strand of hair from her face. “D’you know what though, I’m worried about those people. They said people in nearby villages are poorly since the crash.”

“Could be a coincidence. Countryfolk can be a bit barking when it comes to stuff like this.”

“That’s not fair. They’ve every right to be suspicious.”

He looked over at her, the hint of an adoring smile on his lips. “Do you want to go check on them?”

“What if I do? Maybe they’ll tell us something they wouldn’t tell a bunch of uniformed strangers.”

His expression softened, and his head tilted ever so slightly as he searched her face. He reached out, and her heart sped up, but his hand diverted in mid gesture to rake through his hair. 

“How about this,” he said after a thick swallow.  “First thing in the morning before everyone wakes, I’ll come fetch you, and we’ll hike to the nearest village. It’ll take us well over an hour, but I don’t think we can get away with stealing ponies.”

Rose peered at him sceptically. “Just how early are we talking about?”

“Oh, that’s right. You sleep in like an aristocrat.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I’ll wake up if I’ve got to.” She tapped him on the chest.

“You had better. Was your idea.” He looked down at her finger, which hadn’t moved, except to slide along the lapel of his waistcoat.

Rose caught herself and pulled her hand away. She feigned a yawn that turned into a real one as she shielded her face to hide her blush with a cupped hand.

“I’ll, um, let you think on it. Gonna pop back to camp if you don’t mind. I’m knackered.”

“Rose, wait.” He reached out for her, hands lingering in midair between them. “Don’t go. Sorry, I, ehm…didn’t bring you here to talk business. Well, not only for that.” He swallowed thickly, reaching for her hand. She let him take it, and moved closer to him, quite suddenly no longer sleepy in the slightest.

“O—oh?”

He gestured up at the sky with his free hand. “Watch the galaxy rise with me?”

Rose looked up, eyes darting from star to star. “Does it take long?”

He chuckled. “Oh, live a little, Rose.”

She grinned at him, but then his hand slipped away, and with it, her smile. He sank into silence, gazing up at the sky with his hands hooked in his trouser pockets. Her nerves piped up again, making her feel on edge more than ever before. What did he want from her? If anything at all. She didn’t want to scare him, but she was just so tired. Tired of lingering just on the edge of knowing and yet never understanding what this thing was between them.

“Earlier you said… you said I hadn’t gotten things wrong,” Rose hedged.

The Doctor took a deep breath, but didn’t answer.

“I just want you to know that I, um, I feel that way too. That there’s something more.” She let out a shaky sigh. “But Sarah Jane, she used to be that to you, and you never mentioned her. You just disappeared from her life one day. Is… is that what you do?”

“Not to you.”  He finally turned towards her.

Rose flinched at the hard look in his eyes. “But…”

“I was young and scared back then. Perhaps a bit of an idiot.” He snorted. “Guess I’m not much different now, but Rose… you won’t be here forever. You’ll have to go back, and I’ve no idea if once you return to your time that you can just pop back in again. I don’t know how well our brains can handle time travel beyond just the one trip—it could make you lose memories or cause confusion. Paranoia. May very well destroy you! This life, this time… it’s not worth it. You’re meant to be in the future, where things are unfolding as you go, where you can make the world a better place simply by just… being there.” His shoulders slumped, and his jaw clenched, the sorrow in his eyes breaking her in two.

“You’re worth it,” she said, voice shaky.

He smiled so big, wrinkles splaying, but his eyes were no less sad. “Oh, Rose.”

She looked away shyly, eyes tracking up over his shoulder, and gasped. In the span of their conversation, an immense, glimmering band of the Milky Way had taken over the night. It rose up from the horizon and bowed overhead, its sheer enormity taking her breath away.

He didn’t follow her gaze, but his head tilted. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Never seen anything like it.”

She gaped, drank it all in, dazzled by the faint whorls of colour illuminated by the numerous clusters of celestial bodies. “We’re in the middle of all that, just floating in space. Blimey… Aren’t you gonna look?”

“I’ve seen it before.”

She shifted her gaze back to him. The look in his eyes made her feel like she was the one who hung each star. She licked her lips and ducked her head as a warm, buzzing sensation bloomed under her skin. He was standing so close, and she felt so warm despite the frosty breath curling from her lips.

“You’re cold,” he said, removing his long coat. He draped it over her shoulders and pulled it closed around her, his hands lingering at the lapels.

Rose forgot to breathe. Her heart thudded in her chest so loudly he had to hear it, or at the very least feel it against his hands. She fiddled with the fringe along the edge of the shawl beneath the coat.

“Thanks,” she managed, barely in a whisper.

“Well, there you have it,” he sniffed, eyes shifting upward, and then back to her. “The good ol’ Milky Way.”

She kept her eyes on him this time, admiring how the play of darkness and starlight brought out her most favourite features on his face.

He swallowed. “Maybe, um, we should—”

“Yeah, it’s getting—”

“They’ll wonder—”

They both smiled, and he gently tugged her closer. His eyes were on her lips, and she licked them unconsciously.

“Oh, but they’re not watching us here. Least I hope not,” he said.

Rose smiled, blood thrumming through her veins as he let go of his coat and cradled her face in his palms.

“This all right?” he asked, voice low but hesitant.

She nodded slightly, unable to make sense of any two words in her brain, let alone respond with one of them.

“Can I—” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Might I kiss you?”

“Please,” she said before he’d barely finished. At least she thought she’d said it out loud. She hadn’t heard it herself, but he must have, because shortly after his lips had pressed softly against hers.

Rose’s eyes drifted shut, and she fell against him, his arms pulling her in. She reached for him, hands prying aside the layers of shawl and his coat till her palms rested upon his chest. He tilted his head, and their mouths moved with long, languid kisses, allowing her to taste tea and jam on his lips. Her skin tingled with electric warmth everywhere he touched her, making her fingers curl into his pinstripes. She wasn’t sure how far she should go. What would he expect? What would be too much? She made a soft keening sound and he pressed his lips harder, his tongue slipping against hers as though to answer her unspoken question. Her legs began to weaken, but his arms held her steady. The entire band of stars could vanish above them, and she’d hardly notice.

He broke the kiss first, but came back in for a few more soft presses before he rested his forehead against hers. Rose wound her arms around his shoulders, and they just lingered there like that, his arms tight around her waist, their shaky breaths mingling as they both sought control over their desires.

As they parted, his hand returned to her face, thumb brushing over the apple of her cheek.

“How long will you stay with me?”

Tears prickled behind her eyes, and though his tone suggested he’d been asking a greater power, like fate or time, she had an answer ready for him.

“Forever.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lauraxxtennant for the read-through and encouragement and pedantic nitpicks! ;) Please note the rating has increased. There are mature themes present, but they are not explicit.

Rose and the Doctor sat under a tree on a hill that overlooked their destination, the coastal village of Muirbaile. The walk had taken longer than expected, and worked up their appetites. Rose sat with her back to the tree, her belly full of date loaf as she gazed out over the quaint village.

Waddle and daub homes with and heather-thatched roofs guarded pastures and farmland at the base of snow-capped mountains. Fog rolled in from the bay, drifting over the rushes and curling against stone-faced buildings near the docks. It was so quiet and calm. Sea birds wheeled overhead. She wanted to bottle the peaceful feeling forever.

“Wish I could take a photo for mum,” said Rose, watching as golden sunlight streamed in through thick, late-morning clouds, illuminating the way for small fishing boats as they returned with their hauls. “Looks like a dream.”

“You can do that? Just take a photo wherever you are?” The Doctor asked as he went for the last slice of loaf. He settled back against the tree, shoulder-to-shoulder with Rose.

“Oh yeah. We’ve got it all in our pockets. Telephones, television, cameras, computers.” She smiled at how the Doctor’s face lit up with each word.

“Television…” He looked up as though imagining what that could be. “You lot must have massive pockets.”

“Nah, everything just gets smaller.”

“Sensible, that. Ready to check in on our charming neighbours?”

She picked a tiny leaf from her dress as she stood. “Yep!”

He offered his arm to her, which she took with a smile.

They headed down the dirt road toward a tiny dockside market, figuring that’d be the least conspicuous entrance. Peddlers and hawkers together flanked the main road leading away from the docks, boasting fresh fish, oysters, onions, woven wool, and other local effects. A few villagers haggled with each other in strong Highland brogue, and the Doctor helped translate for Rose along the way.

“Everything seems normal,” said the Doctor, hands in his pockets as they strolled along. “Though they're giving us funny looks."

"Reckon they don't get many visitors."

"Maybe they can tell we’re English.” He grinned.

“Some things don’t change.” She nudged him playfully in the side with her elbow, and they shared a laugh. “Still, seems a bit empty, don’t you reckon?”

The Doctor scanned the market, considering. “Perhaps it’s just a slow day.”

“But there’s empty stalls. And you said those two were fighting over prices being too high for the number of crabs he had in the cage.”

The Doctor inhaled deeply. “I’m glad we came.”

“Would the yellow-haired lass like a talisman?” Called a woman as Rose passed her by.

Intrigued by the word ‘talisman,’ Rose drifted over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Various handmade items for hearth and home were arranged on her stall, along with assorted trinkets of unknown purpose. She smiled at the object sitting upon the woman’s hand. Some sort of brooch, with Celtic knotwork surrounding a streaked orange stone.

“Um, what is this one?” asked Rose.

“S’a weather talisman. See that agate, love? Those wee white swirls glow if there’ll be a storm. The brighter the glow, the bigger the storm. Perfect for a traveller like yourself, lass!”

“I haven’t got any—”

“The bonnie comb will do,” the woman said, eyeing at the sterling silver accessory nestled just above Rose’s ear.

“Oh, ‘kay, yeah.” Rose pulled it out carefully as to not disturb the other non-ornamental pins, and handed it to the woman. She inspected it closely, and once satisfied, she placed the weather trinket in Rose’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“Ah look, it’s glowing already,” said the woman. She shifted a suspicious glimpse to the sky and back to Rose. “Hmm.”

Rose held it up to the sunlight, trying to discern how it worked. Sure enough, little shimmers of gold began to glisten in the white whirls of stone.  It reminded her a bit of the surface of the meteorite.

The woman smiled, but Rose looked away, feeling unsettled. She affixed the brooch to her bodice and turned to search for the Doctor. Oh bugger, he hadn’t noticed her stop. After a moment of craning on tiptoes, she spied him across the narrow road near a wheelwright’s shop, talking to a young girl with a basket in her arms. Rose headed for them, dodging a fresh pile of horse shite on the way.

“Ah, Rose!” the Doctor called, waving her over. “Come along, she’s got interesting things for sale.” He beamed, rocking on his heels.

The girl couldn’t have been older than six or seven, and appeared to be on her own. Her clothes were threadbare and tattered, her skin grimy. Her fair blonde hair was pulled up in an untidy topknot, wisps and strands hanging around her face. The small basket she carried was filled with cockle shells, flowers, stones, buttons, and other things she’s likely found on the ground.

“Hello! My name’s Rose, what’s your name?” Rose smiled with as much warmth as she could muster.

“Jenny,” said the girl, shifting the basket.

“Where’s your mum?” Rose asked the girl, kneeling down.

She shook her head ‘no.’

“Your dad?”

The girl looked up to the Doctor and back to Rose, shaking her head again.

“What have you got in your basket?” Rose asked, peering inside.

“Pretty things: three a penny. More for bread,” Jenny responded in carefully annunciated English.

Rose’s eyes widened as she spied several green meteorite shards amongst the other items.

“Blimey. Haven’t got any money, I’m afraid,” Rose said, feeling along her hips, her hands sliding over her dress. Times like this she wished for a pair of jeans with pockets. “Have you, Doctor?”

Before he could respond, a man stepped out of the wheelwright’s shop and began yelling at the girl, making shooing motions with his hands.

“Get! Go away, y’clatty girl!”

Others in the area turned toward the commotion, and joined him, shouting angrily and throwing rubbish in her direction. The girl gasped, and ran off through the alley between the buildings.

Rose rounded on them. “What the hell’s your problem? She’s just a little girl!”

The Doctor squeezed Rose’s arm, gently garnering her attention. “Follow her. I’ll deal with them.”

Rose nodded and took off through the alley where the girl had fled. She wound up in a meadow, and scanned the patchwork of crofts over the hillside. No sign of her. Rose called out her name as she searched, startling a huddle of sheep. Hearing no other response, she pressed on.

When she reached a thatch of trees at the edge of the village, she noticed a caravan parked in the shade, obscured by dense shrubs. Worth a try.

“Jenny?” called Rose, stepping across a small, trickling stream into the thicket. The caravan had been abandoned, evident by faded paint and badly weathered wood. One of the wheels had been shattered, a large stone in its place to prop up the body of the vehicle.

The curtains on the window shifted, and Rose saw a little face peeking out. It disappeared seconds later.

“Jenny, it’s all right,” Rose said, voice raised so the girl could hear. “I’m here to help. M’not gonna hurt you.”

After a long moment, the door clicked, and creaked open. Jenny’s slight form emerged from the darkness.

“Hey,” Rose said, voice soft. She smiled and the girl stepped out onto the little ledge by the door. She searched Rose’s arms, hand pawing at her thin stomach. The poor child must be so hungry.

“Are you out here by yourself?”

She nodded. “They don’t want me in the village.”

“Why’s that?”

The girl shrugged a shoulder, and put her hand on the door jamb as though to step back inside. Rose decided to not pry further on that subject, sensing her unease.

“Hey, did you see a shooting star recently? A really big one?” Rose asked.

Jenny nodded, her eyes brightening and ponytail swishing. “The green one!”

“Yeah! Kinda like those stones in your basket?”

Again, she gave a buoyant nod. “They’re luck stones. If you rub ‘em, they’ll give you luck—unless you’re a bad person, then you’ll get sick.”

Rose tilted her head. “Whoa, really? How do they know if someone’s good or bad?”

“I dunno… but it’s true. Mr. Bryson had lots, and he was nasty. He hit me with a broom after my mum died. He’s really sick now.”

Rose gasped. “That’s awful! How’d he get so many stones?”

“He went to find the green star, and came back with a satchel full. Later he got really sick and now he can’t get out of bed.”

 “Oh, well he shouldn’t have hit you with that broom.”

Jenny smiled a little at that.

Rose had a hard time keeping her smile though. Wasn’t right, hitting a little girl with a broom. Even so, he’d clearly been affected by the meteorite shards, and she was there to get to the bottom of that.

“He’s alive though, yeah? He’s just lying in bed?”

Jenny nodded.

“So, where’d you find the stones you’ve got in your basket?”

She looked down at her natty shoes. “Found them on Mr. Bryson’s window sill. I traded one for a whole fish!”

“I see.”

Rose reached out and braced a hand on a nearby tree as an odd weakness suddenly came over her.

“What’s the matter?” Jenny’s head tilted.

Rose gently waved off Jenny’s concern. “'M okay, just a bit tired. Walked all morning to get here.” Contradicting her assertion, an ache shimmied through her body out to her limbs, and settled into her joints. She held her forehead as the forest seemed to sway.

“You’re sick,” said Jenny, taking a step back.

“No m’not. Like i said—”

The rustle of footsteps sounded at the edge of the thicket.

Jenny ran back towards the caravan and disappeared inside, the door slapping against the frame after her.

Rose's heart sped up. The footsteps came closer. She didn't want to have inadvertantly led someone to Jenny's home, so she moved to meet the person head on.

Familiar thin, pinstriped trousers and a swishing coat came into view through the foliage. Rose sighed with relief. The Doctor came around a tree with a rucksack slung over his shoulder. He had a dark look in his eyes, and a clenched jaw. It put Rose right back on guard.

“Doctor, what’s wrong?”

The Doctor waited until he reached her before he spoke, keeping his voice low. “Is she here?”

“Yes. Tell me what’s going on.”

The Doctor looked up over Rose’s shoulder through the trees.

“There are quite a number of sick people here, Rose. It’s far worse than Torchwood’s reports, and the people here think it’s her fault.”

“Well s’not her fault. Not at all,” Rose said. She went on to explain what Jenny had told her about Bryson and his journey to the meteorite.

The Doctor hummed in thought. “Must be how she got ahold of the stones. Nicked them when he couldn’t get out of bed to stop her. She’s been trading them for food ever since.”

“Well good. She’s just a child, and she’s starving. I don’t blame her at all,” Rose said.

“Either way, we have to convince her former customers to give up the meteorites. Seems they’re not quite convinced the shards themselves are the source of the illness.”

“Really? How thick do you have to be? Blimey, put two-and-two together.”

“I suggested that to them, but I fear they've got a terrible bias. She’s a luchd-siubhail. A summer walker. A highland traveller—you know, indigenous Scottish folk,” he added when Rose’s bemused expression only grew more bemused. She nodded, having caught on, and he continued.

“Her parents were separated from the rest of their group when officials came through to divide up the land amongst the lords. A blatant attempt to run nomadic folk out of the country. Her family ended up here, but they weren’t welcome.”

Rose frowned. “She said her mum died.”

“Yes, apparently her mum came into town to seek a midwife, but neither survived the birth. It was too early, and the mother was malnourished. Couldn’t get very clear information on what happened to her father.” He rubbed his chin, brows furrowed. “No one here wants to be responsible for an orphaned child, yet they don’t want to be responsible for her death either. So, she’s in a kind of limbo.”

“And now the mystery illness is tipping the balance.”

He nodded. “They just needed a reason. Oh, look. I think she’s decided to join us.”

Rose turned to see Jenny watching them from behind a tree trunk.

The Doctor dug around in the rucksack, and pulled out a wrapped package. “Miss Jenny, is it?” He called.

Jenny nodded, her eyes fixated on the package.

“Fancy a bit of sausage and barley bread? Haven’t got anything t—”

Before he could finish, Jenny had rushed over and grabbed the package from his hand. She tore off the twine and ripped open the parchment to reveal the savory contents. She went for the sausage first, biting into it with abandon.

It smelt so good, Rose’s stomach growled. "Oi, get any for us?"

“Careful now, don’t fill up too fast. Could give you a belly ache,” said the Doctor with a chuckle as he lowered to a knee. “Will that be enough in exchange for the green stones you’ve got in your basket?”

Jenny swallowed, breadcrumbs clinging to her chin. “All of them?”

“Yes. You see, they’re making people sick, and we don’t know why. So we want to collect them and study them to figure it out.”

“But they bring me luck.”

The Doctor gasped. “You don't say. Well no wonder you want to keep them. What sort of luck have they given you?”

“First I got a whole fish, and then I could understand trees!" She took a bite of sausage and bread simultaneously. "Now you’re 'ere to take me 'omewhere better,” she added, mouth full of food.

“Are we?” The Doctor exchanged a curious glance with Rose. He then smiled at Jenny. “Err, what do the trees say?”

Jenny made a face like the Doctor had said fish could swim in outer space. “They’re not really talking; that’s mad. It’s just a feeling.”

“Huh.”

Rose smiled, watching them. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a chill as a breeze passed through the thicket.

The Doctor rubbed his chin in thought.  “You think we’re here to take you somewhere better?”

She nodded, swallowing. “Nobody wants me here. Maybe nowhere.”

Rose shivered, rubbing her arms, and her heart sank a little lower.

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor frowned.

Jenny swallowed a bite of bread. “Mummy said there’s a better place across the ocean, but daddy didn’t want to go there. Said we’ve been here for hundreds of years, so we should stay.”

“Sounds like quite a dilemma.” The Doctor pursed his lips in thought. “Unfortunately, we’re only here for a short while."

"But I wished on that shooting star for someone to help me, and now you’re here!"

The Doctor looked at Rose helplessly. Rose bit her lip.

“Jenny, that shooting star you saw came all the way from somewhere in outer space and crashed here. We walked here from a camp where people are digging it up from the ground to bring it to a safe place,” explained Rose, putting a comforting hand on Jenny’s shoulder. “Its shards are giving off an energy that’s hurting people—they may seem lucky to you, but we can’t let them hurt other people, yeah?”

Jenny looked down, picking at the last bit of sausage.

“She’s right,” the Doctor said. “And it’s only a matter of time before others get sick. I’m not sure why it affects some people more quickly than others, but we’re all at risk. Anyone who has handled those stones, in fact. Luckily some very helpful people will be here later to make sure everyone’s okay. Especially you.” He smiled softly.

“Are you leaving now?”

“Er… soon. I sort of have to go back and tell the helpful people that they need to come here, you see.”

Jenny pouted, her eyes swimming with tears. “Don’t want you to go.”

The Doctor brushed a crumb from Jenny’s cheek. “Tell you what. Would you fancy a walk through town to collect as many stones as we can? You probably know your way around; you might even know who has them better than anyone else. It’ll be a big help, and we can play games on the way.”

Jenny crinkled up the parchment nervously as she mulled it over.

"But they’ll just yell if they see me.”

“I’ll tell them to stuff it. Rose will too, probably better than I could.”

Jenny smiled. “All right."

The Doctor beamed. "Brilliant!"

Rose took the rucksack from the Doctor, and went with Jenny to fetch her basket. They transferred the meteorite shards into the bag, and Rose slung it over her shoulder. They returned to the Doctor, and Jenny reached up to hold his hand as they set off.

They spent the afternoon wandering the town under Jenny’s guidance. Many people were suspicious, and a few did shout, but once the Doctor explained the truth behind the green stones, families were quick to hand them over. When they reached Mr. Bryson’s house, Rose distracted Jenny by drawing animals in the dirt with sticks. The Doctor went alone to deal with the unpleasant man, and they went silent as they overheard shouting and the slam of a door.

The Doctor returned, his coat pockets weighed down with meteorite shards. Rose turned her back to him so he could access the bag.

“He sounded like a nice bloke.” Rose watched Jenny draw a fish in the dirt nearby. She shuddered as a chill coursed through her.

“Just lovely. I’m not entirely convinced he gave all of them to me, but it’s clear he had many more than what our little friend discovered,” he said over her shoulder, transferring the last few stones. “Want me to carry them for a bit?”

“Yeah, s’getting heavy.”

As soon as he rescued her shoulder from the heavy bag, Rose felt a little better. Still out of sorts, but no longer weighed down on top of it.  From then on they decided to switch every so often.

They pressed on after a quick bite to eat, deciding to wander up the road outside of town in search of outlying homes. Jenny quickly grew bored of just walking around. So, as the Doctor promised, he invented little games for them to play along the way. Rose attempted to play a few, but she didn’t quite feel like prancing around. Good thing the Doctor joined in on every round with his seemingly endless reserve of energy. Jenny fed off of it, their laughter tugging at Rose’s heart in a way it hadn’t ever been tugged before.

When they had grown tired of playing games, the Doctor let Jenny ride on his back whilst he told her stories of his many adventures. Some that Rose hadn’t even heard. Jenny decided right then that he should take her with him. The world was such a big place, and she wanted to explore it with the Doctor and Rose.

They had just finished up with the last croft house, when Rose looked up to discover that Jenny had fallen asleep on the Doctor’s back, her arms draped over his shoulders. The Doctor kept his gaze straight ahead, a contented smile on his face.

Rose adjusted the heavy meteorite-shard-filled rucksack on her shoulder to relieve an ache that radiated down through her neck and back. Her entire body, really. Not too much longer before they reached Jenny’s caravan, though. She could make it.

“Hate to leave her here alone,” Rose said, voice hitching from the effort to contain her misery.

“Me too, but they seem more amenable to her now at least, and she’s used to sleeping out here.”

“Yeah.”

“But we really must head back to camp. They’re likely wondering after us.”

Rose looked up at the stars gleaming through the dusk. “You said you left a note.”

“I did, but it’s possible they might not’ve been in the mood for a scavenger hunt.” He shifted to adjust Jenny’s weight on his back.

“ _What_!?”

“Mmm, you’re right, everyone loves a scavenger hunt.” He grinned.

Rose laughed and shook her head, hoping he’d never change.

At last they reached Jenny’s caravan. Rose’s joints were turning into rocks, grinding and throbbing from walking so much. The very idea of hiking all the way back to the camp made her want to drop right then and there, and possibly never get up again. She even stumbled a bit, feeling out of sorts.

The Doctor looked over at her. “Rose, are you all right? You look unwell.”

“M'okay.” Her shoulder seared where the strap dug in, and she winced. “Just a bit cold and sore. Let’s get her to her bed.”

They entered the cramped caravan, and the Doctor laid her in her bed, covering her with an extra coverlet. She stirred a little, but fell back asleep.

“Someone will be back to help you,” whispered the Doctor. He brushed a strand of her hair from her face, his eyes tense under a furrowed brow. He stepped back and rubbed his chin.

Rose tried to ignore the flutter of butterflies in her belly as she watched them. He was so concerned for Jenny, another orphan like himself, and he’d been so patient and gentle with her all day. It made her want to snog the life out of him. 

She sighed, and crept out of the caravan, hoping he hadn’t seen her flushed cheeks.

He joined her seconds later with the rucksack full of meteorite shards across his shoulder. He reached for her hand, fingers wiggling. She slipped her hand into his and smiled.

“Let’s see if—oh… you’re very warm, Rose.” He picked up her hand, sandwiching it between both of his.

Rose’s face was so hot her eyes burned. She smiled, looking up and away from him. “Stop.”

“No, really.” He turned her towards him and put the back of his hand against her forehead. “You’re not well.” He then ran the back of his hand down her cheek. His knuckles lingered along her jawline.

“’M okay,” she breathed. “Just knackered. We’ve been walking all...” She swayed, that woozy feeling overcoming her again. “All day. Let’s go, they’re probably worried like you said.”

The Doctor steadied her with a gentle grasp of her upper arms. He searched her face, a worried look in returning. “Rose, how long have you been feeling like this? You need rest immediately. There was an inn on the main road—let’s see if they have a room, shall we?”

“Yeah. I think I can manage a few more steps,” she said with a bit of a derisive laugh.

He linked his arm with hers. “Tell me if you can’t. Please. I’m not opposed to carrying you.”

"You offering?"

"If necessary."

"S'a shame I think I can make it then."

He smiled at her fondly, and her heart fluttered. It really was a shame. She didn’t want to take advantage of him, though.

They headed for the inn, making it there with only one mishap (getting across the stream wasn't fun). Rose leaned against the Doctor, her arms around his middle, as he made arrangements with the innkeeper. Once everything had been settled, he helped her up the stairs and to the tiny inn room.

She heard the thud of the rucksack as he dropped it by the door, but most of her senses were focused on his arm around her shoulders, steadily guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. The desire to pull him with her and fall asleep in his arms was overwhelming, and her defenses were down just enough to almost give in. But she didn’t.

He lit the rushlight on the nearby table and looked down at her in quiet concern. She began removing the pins from her hair.

“I’ve asked them to bring you porridge, and they can send someone to help you out of your dress. Would you like them to draw you a bath? That might help you feel better also. And some tea—yes, I’ll have them send a cup of warm tea. Medicine! Wonder if that’ll help? Couldn’t hurt, I suppose. Your body’s immune system is reacting, so it stands to reason that medicines that alleviate symptoms could help you. Yes, I’ll see if I can find something.”

She watched him flit about the room, ensuring its comforts as he rambled.

"Where are you gonna sleep?"

He stopped by the window, checking for draughts. “I’m going back to camp.”

“But it’s… Stay with me.” She swallowed, feeling like a wad of cotton was lodged in her throat. “Please."

His shoulders tensed, and his hand clenched the window sill. After a deep breath through his nose, he moved to sit next to her on the bed.

“I should get these shards away from you, or you’ll only feel worse. And I must send for help out here as soon as possible. We saw how many had fallen ill.” His eyes drifted over her, brows knit in worry. “Get some rest. You’ll begin to feel better once I’ve gone.”

She shook her head, doubting that, and brushed her fingers along the side of his hand. “I don’t want you to do it alone. Walking back all that way at night? What if you get sick too?”

He grasped her hand, tracing circles over the back of it with his thumb. “I’ll be all right. I’ve walked alone along the rim of an active volcano, I assure you I can handle this.”

“Why’m I not surprised.” She laughed.

He smiled, lines spreading from his eyes. “Just wait, Rose Tyler, someday I’ll take you there.”

She gazed at him, her heart thumping thick and steady in her chest. He leaned in and her pulse quickened further, but the kiss was for her temple. She closed her eyes at the feel of his lips on her feverish skin. He gently cupped her face with his hand, his touch cool and soothing. At last she looked up at him and reached for him in kind, her fingers sliding through his hair over his ear.

His eyes were almost amber in the glow of the rushlight, and she wanted to fall into the darkness that crept into his gaze. That was it. She no longer cared about some big purpose for going back in time. Just being with him was reason enough. Her fingers curled against the back of his head, wanting to draw him closer, not wanting to ever think about leaving him. Not ever.

“Sweet dreams,” he said, his voice rough as he slowly pulled back from her. Her breath hitched as he slid his hand under her chin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah. I’ll—I’ll check on Jenny if you haven’t returned yet.”

He nodded, staring at her lips.

There was a knock at the door.

The Doctor stood abruptly, and went back to the window. Rose looked away, busying herself with pulling back the blankets.

“Come in,” said Rose.

A woman entered, the same woman who ran the bar downstairs. She had a tray of porridge and a steaming mug of tea.

“Here you are lass. Did you want that bath?”

Rose shook her head. “I’ll take it the morning, thank you.”

“Very well.” She smiled at the Doctor and ducked out of the room.

The Doctor sniffed. “Right then. Time to go.”

She bit her lip. “See you later.”

He smiled at her, grabbed the rucksack, and put his hand on the door. He gave her one last lingering look, and then left.

Rose closed her eyes, sighing, not wanting to admit, even to herself, that the aches in her body were ebbing as those stupid stones were taken farther and farther away. She hoped that whatever superhuman attribute of his that kept him going all day would continue to fight off the effects of the stones. He had a long walk ahead, and the nights were terribly cold.

The inkeeper’s daughter stopped by to help Rose out of her dress, and then she was alone again. The weather talisman sat in her palm, glowing softly. She’d almost forgotten about it, and wondered just when this storm would come it was supposedly predicting. After setting it on the bedside table and blowing out the rushlight, she climbed into bed. Her body cried out with relief that she was no longer holding herself up. Although her mind was fitful with worry, sleep claimed her almost immediately.

 

Rose awoke in the morning to the sound of faint rustle and clatter in her room. Her body felt stiff, but no longer ached, and she stretched languorously across the too-small bed. The smell of roast lamb and other fixings wafted through the air, making her stomach rumble. The next thing she recognized is an all-consuming thirst. She tried to swallow, but her throat was parched.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Rose’s eyes popped open, hearing the slightly familiar, feminine voice. Sarah Jane moved to stand by her bed, smiling softly.

“Was just about to wake you myself. How do you feel?”

“Better.” Rose sat up, a flare of anxiousness turning her stomach. “Where’s the Doctor? Is he all right?”

“Downstairs with the others. He’d fallen rather ill by the time he reached us, but he’s improving.”

“I was afraid of that…” Rose swallowed a pang of guilt and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“I brought a clean dress for you, and a glass of water.” She held up the glass, and Rose took it, downing a few long gulps.

“Oh, god that’s gorgeous… thanks.” She smiled warmly at the woman that had once made her feel ambivalent and jealous. “How long was I asleep?”

“It’s just before noon, so, quite a long time. John said you might. Do you need help with this?” She held up a corset.

“Yeah, but I’d like that bath first. I feel like I swam in sweat all night.” She pulled up the shoulder of her chemise, relieved as cool air hit her shoulder.

“I’ll tell them to prepare it for you.”

“Thanks.”

Sarah Jane headed for the door, and paused, her hand on the knob. “He was so worried about you.”

“I know the feeling.”

“I’m glad he’s found someone like you.” Sarah Jane smiled. “More than a match for him.”

Rose stood, fidgeting with a strand of her hair. She didn’t quite know what to say, and wished she had time to get to know her better.

“Hey, how was the scavenger hunt?”

“The what?”

“The, um, trail of riddles the Doctor left.”

“Oh!” Sarah Jane laughed. “Absurd! But the second I saw the first clue note, it was like I was eighteen years younger.” She shook her head, smiling at a memory. “The others weren’t so amused, but that’s just like him.”

Rose tilted her head, smiling against her shoulder. “Yeah.”

“We’ll be waiting for you downstairs. They’ve made an Easter feast in the tavern, so we won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

“I’ll be down in a bit.”

 Sarah Jane left, and Rose gathered her change of clothes and headed for the bath. Too excited to dawdle, she scrubbed the dirt from her body and rinsed her hair with lavender water, then found one of the innkeeper’s daughters to help her with her hair and corset.

Feeling loads better, Rose made her way downstairs to the tavern. She paused on the steps, looking over at everyone seated together at a large table, sharing a laugh. She couldn’t stop the smile from blooming on her face if she tried.

“Rose!”

The Doctor stood, and she descended the rest of the stairs. He practically flung himself across the few paces remaining between them, and picked her up in a spinning hug.

She smiled, burrowing her face against his collar. The spin made her a bit dizzy, but it didn’t matter.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked close to her ear. “How do you feel?”

“Yes. Feel much better.”

“You look lovely.” He rubbed his hands down her back to settle on her waist. Up close, she saw the remaining evidence of his illness. Dark rings settled under his eyes, and freckles that stood out against his pale skin.

Rose rested her hands on his chest, much like she had when they kissed.  She gave a playful smirk. “You look ill. Did you get any sleep?”

He chuckled. “Yes, well. You should’ve seen yourself last night.”

Realising the patrons of the tavern were giving them vaguely scandalised looks, they parted and smiled at each other, Rose fidgeting with an earring, and the Doctor rubbing the back of his neck.

Someone nearby murmured about how it’s the Lord’s day, and Easter no less, and shouldn’t they control themselves?

“Yeah, you two, save it for the train,” said Jack in exaggerated disdain so the affronted patrons could hear. He waggled his eyebrows.

“Save what for the train?” asked Jenny.

Jack cringed with a grin. “Nothing, darling. Keep eating.”

Sarah Jane rolled her eyes.

The Doctor and Rose joined the others at their table, and Jack helped serve her plate.

“So what all happened with the meteorite?” asked Rose, cutting into the roast lamb with relish.

“Was too heavy, so Ianto stayed behind with most of the crew to wait on a hauling truck,” the Doctor explained. Then he leaned in closer. “There’s more, but I’ll have to tell you when we have privacy.”

Rose nodded in understanding, and glanced fondly at Jenny when she heard her laughter. “She’s getting on well with Sarah Jane.”

“Yeah. It’s fortunate. Sarah offered to mind Jenny since we can’t stay. This lot,” he gestured to Jack and the other Torchwood fellows with his knife, “they’re here to conduct a health and safety investigation.”

“What d’you mean we can’t stay? Easter breaks aren’t over.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows lowered. “Apparently whilst we were out yesterday, I’d received a telephone message back at the lodge that something’s gone wrong in my lab. It was delivered to me this morning, came in last night, so I don’t want to put it off any longer.”

“What happened? Did they say?”

“I’m not certain, but we mustn’t tarry. I packed up our luggage and it’s waiting for us in a coach outside.”

A little shock of anxiety hit Rose in the chest. She hoped he hadn’t seen anything, such as, you know, an old timey contraceptive. But, no. She’d made sure it was buried, and he wouldn’t snoop around like that.

Once the meal was over, everyone moved outside. The Doctor was stuck in a conversation with the innkeeper about the benefits of cooking haggis in a sheep’s stomach versus smaller links (the idea of the latter nearly made the innkeeper blow a gasket), whilst Rose said her goodbyes to Sarah Jane and Jack.

She’d just knelt to give Jenny a hug when the Doctor returned.

“Miss you,” Jenny said to Rose with a sniffle.

Rose brushed a strand of hair behind the girl’s ear. “I’ll miss you too.”

Jenny then flung her arms around the Doctor as he lowered to his knees.

“Don’t go,” she said into the Doctor’s shoulder.

He pat her back, his mouth drawn in a thin line. “Be strong now, Jenny. I’ll see you again, you hear?”

Jenny nodded, tears swimming in her eyes. “That’s good.”

“Time to go,” said the lodge chauffeur. “Long drive to Inverness ahead.”

“Right,” said the Doctor, standing.

They climbed into the coach and within moments, the town had vanished over the side of a hill. It was a quiet ride at first, neither of them in the mood for talking. Onward they rode down the long, meandering road towards some town or another. It all began to blur together. Rose felt restless, even though she could do with sitting around all day for a change. She fidgeted with the weather brooch, brushing her thumb over its glowing whorls. The Doctor eyed it, but made no comment.

After a time, the chauffeur attempted to strike up a conversation with the Doctor. Apparently he’d heard of him. Well. He’d heard of Doctor John Noble, professor of astrophysics at Linvale University. They carried on about other galaxies where life might exist, and parallel dimensions. Rose stared out of the window. She wanted to join in, but had no idea what to say. The only alternate dimension she knew was the future, and she’d rather think about the contents of haggis at the moment.

They arrived at Inverness for the overnight train with only a few minutes to spare. Once they’d boarded and settled their luggage into the room, they popped over to the dining carriage. Finally, by eleven o’clock, they were settled at the table in their shared sleeper.

The Doctor had his research spread out before him for both time travel and the meteorite. Just looking at it all made Rose anxious, so she attempted to read the book Donna had lent her wishing more than ever that they had a telly. After getting halfway down a page and having no idea what she’d just read, she gave a heavy sigh and put the book away. She searched for a blank sheet of paper on which to doodle, but found she wasn’t really in the mood.  The brooch caught her eye from the bedside table, and she stared at it in thought.

“All right, Rose?” the Doctor asked, not looking up.

“Yeah.” She tilted her head, wondering. “How do you reckon that thing works?”

He looked up briefly. “The brooch? Dunno. I can reverse engineer it if you like.”

“Maybe there’s a storm in London.”

“There’s always a storm in London.”

She huffed. “Yeah.”

They fell silent again, and Rose stared at the clock on the wall. Its incessant ticking began to unnerve her. The second hand seemed to scrape against her skin with every forward lurch. She tore her eyes away and focused on the Doctor, admiring his soft lashes under the dim lamplight.

“So, uhm…what happened when you returned to camp?”

The Doctor had his tongue pressed against his teeth, squinting at a diagram he’d drawn. He made a puzzled face. “So I should account for time oscillation at  _this_  point in the transference. Huh. Fascinating. What? Oh, well,” he pulled off his specs. “I’d just made it in time to see them dragging it from the earth, and, oh Rose, you should’ve seen it! It had roots!” He gestured for emphasis, nearly flinging his pen across the room. “Dug right into the soil. They retracted once they hit the air—strangest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen many strange things, you know.”

Rose smiled, trying to picture it. “You mean like plant roots?”

“Something like that, yes. Oh!” He went over to his luggage and fished out a metal container. “They also gave me a sample. I proposed that a steel box lined with lead and a layer of aluminum might help dampen the effects, and of course I was right.” He preened a little, adjusting his tie.

“Of course.” Rose’s smile turned sideways.

He set the metal box down on the table, and plopped back in his seat, his movements shifting aside a few pages of his research to reveal a schematic of a pocket watch.

Rose sat forward, eyes wide. She opened her mouth, but snapped it shut, remembering with a flash that she shouldn’t tell him his future. She’d almost forgotten about the peculiar time piece that started it all.

He quirked an eyebrow, following her line of sight. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, lifting her chin and affecting unfamiliarity. “S’a good drawing. Lots of technical detail.”

He pulled it out from the pile, and turned it towards her, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You recognize it.”

She scratched the back of her neck, looking away. “No I don’t.”

“Rose, it’s all right. You told me you used a fob watch with my machine already.”

“Oh, blimey. Did I mess things up?”

“Pardon?”

“By telling you that I used a pocket watch with your time machine, which made you decide use one as a key to work your time machine. If I never came back in time, you’d never have known that, right? Isn’t it some kind of paradox?”

A wide grin spread across his face. “Oh, Rose. Maybe a teeny tiny paradox, but nothing major. I’d already been developing this prototype—well, I didn’t bring it with me. Locked safely away in the attic. I’d have used it either way, you see?” His expression snapped to something far sterner, brows furrowed. “But let’s not create any more tiny paradoxes. They can lead to bigger ones.”

She nodded, her heart twisting in her chest in a flash of unease. “Got it.”

He stared at the schematic, and then glanced at the metal box. “Hmm.”

“What is it?”

Without answering, he searched for an envelope and pulled out the contents, flipping through them. He hummed again as he found the page for which he’d been looking. After spending some time reorganizing his assortment of books and papers and folders, he nodded and sniffed.

“What? Oh, nothing. Or possibly everything. Need to let it stew for a bit longer in the old noggin. I must brush my teeth.” He stood. “Oral hygiene is of the utmost importance!”

Rose stared after him, utterly mystified, as he pulled pyjamas and a hygiene kit from his luggage, and then headed out of the door.

“That’s the man I’m in love with, everyone,” Rose said, addressing an imaginary audience.

She decided to prepare for bed herself, and changed into a nightgown. After folding her dress away, she took the time to remove the pins and combs from her hair and brush it out like Reinette had shown her.

Thinking of Reinette circled her thoughts back around to the diaphragm. She bit her lip as she put her brush back into her luggage and uncovered the box containing the contraceptive. They would be alone tonight. And she hated the idea of him sleeping on that horrible bench. She opened the box and stared at the instructions, wishing she’d have the foresight to bring her pill case along. 

She ignored the little voice that told her it wasn’t gonna happen. That she was a presumptuous tart. It very well might not, but if he agreed to lie next to her, that could lead to touching, and maybe even groping. And as far as Rose was concerned, if his hands went anywhere near her breasts, she’d combust if he didn’t want to go any further. She pulled the diaphragm from the box, considering, just as the door latch clicked.

Swearing under her breath, she fumbled with the little rubber cup just as he swept into the room. She conspicuously hid it behind her back as she sprang up to her feet. Her heart galloped in her chest. He quirked his eyebrow. He’d seen  _something_.

“Teeth all clean?” She said with a too big, forced grin.

“Sparkling.” He craned his neck, trying to peer around. “What’ve you got there?”

“Um.” Panic set in. She didn't need to tell him, did she? God it was  _mortifying._  But… BUT. If nothing happened between them, he’d never know. She exhaled through her nose. Right.  “You know, women stuff.” She gave a sheepish laugh as she inched toward the door, keeping her back to him.

“Are you on your monthly?” he whispered.

“Oh, god! No!” She cringed. “It’s my, uh, toothbrush. You reminded me of oral hygiene. Super important. May I - may I borrow your toothpaste?”

“Oh—yes.” He passed it to her and moved out of her way, eyebrows raised like he was certain she’d gone mad. He wasn’t far off.

She sprinted out of the room and down to the ladies, dodging a baffled older woman in a nightcap. Closing herself in alone, she brushed her teeth with her finger (which is how the little lie backfired), and then spent the better part of ten minutes staring at the diaphragm before bracing herself and inserting it according to the instructions.

"Ew, ew..."

It felt weird, and she walked a little oddly back to their room as she tried to get used to it. When she reached the door, she paused and took a few steadying breaths. Butterflies began to summersault in her belly, and her heart drummed against her ribs.

She pulled the handle to the door, and pushed into the room, bumping right into him. The door shut behind her, and everything went silent. They stared at each other for a long moment. Breathing. And then both of them laughed; she’d knocked his glasses askew.

“Sorry, I was just turning down the lamps.” He said with a smile, straightening his specs.

Rose smiled up at him, bottom lip tucked under her teeth. His skin had returned to a nice peachy colour, and his eyes were bright and alert despite the late hour. Blimey, was he close.

She reached out and straightened the crooked lapel of his pyjama top, eyes drifting down to admire his neck, the stubble along his jaw, and back up to his lips. He went quiet, and her hand lingered at his chest, which rose and fell with forced steadiness under her hand. His mouth was slack, but his hands remained curled into tight fists at his sides.

And his eyes… dark, but oddly distant. Like he shouldn't be this close to the edge, like he knew it would end him, but something called him ever closer. She licked her lips, tilting up her chin. If he just let himself fall. They'd be all right, she knew it. She'd always be there to catch him.

His eyes roamed along her features, followed the lock of hair that curled over her shoulder, and back up, settling on her lips.

“Would you like to kiss me goodnight, Doctor?”

His jaw clenched, and something flashed in his eyes as they met hers in an instant. Maybe she misunderstood. Her heart began to slip.

"I want to." His voice low and soft.

"Then go ahead." She smiled. "And never stop."

He smiled, and her heart unfurled in her chest. She lifted onto her toes and he lowered to press his lips to hers. His arms promptly encircled her, pulling her to him. She smiled into the kiss as he lifted her up off the ground.

She cupped his face as they parted. “Could I interest you in a nice, warm, comfortable bed tonight?”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and then he nodded. His eyes went unfocused as she slid her hands back through his hair.

“Right this way.”

She took his hands and pulled him along with her, but there was really no effort in it at all. He came willingly, diving in for kisses, some that met her lips and others that found her neck, her jaw, or her shoulder. Emboldened by his eagerness, she slid out of her chemise, exposing herself to him fully. He reached for her, hands skirting along her waist with reverent touches.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Her heart ached at the sorrow buried in his voice. It echoed in the wake of his fingertips sliding up over her curves. He was committing her to memory.

His lips sought hers again, catching her bottom lip, not letting her linger in the worry. She felt his tongue, and met it with her own, opening up to deepen the kiss. They did their best to keep the kiss going as they removed his clothes, punctuating the effort with laughter and hums of delight.

Her hands found him ready for her, and he stilled, eyes tightly shut.

“What about—”

“It’s all right. Taken care of. Reinette slipped something for me in my luggage.”

He nodded, understanding.

She kissed his forehead, which drew a smile from him, and he wrapped his arms around her to lower her to the bed. 

Nothing else existed once his hips settled between her thighs. The world stopped spinning as he began to move.  Time itself stood still, and she wanted it to stay that way forever. But it couldn’t last, not when it felt so good. He buried his face into her neck, trembling with the effort to hold on. But her encouraging whispers in his ear, and her fingers dragging down his back brought it all to a euphoric crescendo. With a tilt of her hips, he found a deeper place inside of her. Rose cried out in ecstasy, not even caring if other passengers could hear, and that was his undoing.

They lay together, entwined, hearts beating and sweat cooling on their skin. He crawled lazy circles along her arm with his fingertips as she nestled closer. For a man who couldn’t shut up most of the time, he was oddly quiet. Rose kissed him on the shoulder, not wanting to press him for what was on his mind.  It wasn’t long before the motion, and rhythmic sounds of the train lulled them both to sleep.

 

The morning came too soon, and Rose awoke with the Doctor’s heartbeat at her ear. Her arm was draped over his abdomen and her leg over his thigh. She smiled and pressed a kiss against his bare chest.

“Good morning,” he said, voice gruff with sleep.

She shifted, propping herself up. “The best morning.”

He stared up at her, losing himself for a moment. “We have to get off the train soon,” he murmured, combing his fingers through her hair.

“That’s terrible. Let’s lock the door.”

His laughter made her stomach swoop, just like his photo had long ago.

“You think I’m joking.”

He brought her hand to his lips and gave it a kiss. “I know you’re not.”

They snuggled for as long as time would allow, and then let herself have a few lazy minutes whilst he dressed and prepared their luggage. After setting out a dress for her, he perched at the table bench, and took a long look at her. The longer it lasted, the more sorrowful it grew, and she felt tears stinging her eyes.

“Might I draw you like this? I don’t want to ever forget it,” he said, brows pulled together.

She nodded, and bit her lip shyly. “Um, yeah. Sure.” She just remained on the edge of the bed, her long hair swept over one shoulder, messy from sleep and her chemise slipping off of one shoulder.

He pulled out his field journal, along with an ink pen, and sat at the bench. “Not that I ever could,” she heard him whisper to himself as he began to draw, not even looking.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you to the ever helpful and encouraging lauraxxtennant! Angst warning ahead.

The head custodian greeted the Doctor and Rose at the door to McCrimmon Hall when they arrived. Rose looked up at the sky as he spoke with the Doctor, and absently fidgeted with the weather brooch. Billowy clouds drifted across the light of the sun, casting great shadows on the ground. Beyond the white puffs and wisps of vapour was a sea of sapphire blue—if there was to be a storm, it was still well off.

They entered the foyer, and headed straight for the Doctor’s office and lab. Just as the custodian had described, the place had been ransacked, but nothing had really been destroyed in the process.

“Well, they didn’t take anything it seems.” The Doctor sighed and sat down at his desk, and began to tidy up the disarray. Folders were left open, papers strewn about, and drawers pulled ajar.

Rose slid a book that had been tossed to the floor back on the shelf. “Yeah… When did they say the officer’ll be back for a statement?”

“Four o’clock.” He stood, and scanned the rest of the room. “But they’ve likely already gotten all the information they need from Mott.”

Rose looked up at that name. “The custodian?”

“Yes. He’s the one who found the mess.”

A thread tugged in her mind. Mott. She swept scattered papers into a pile in her arms and set them on the corner of her desk, trying to remember.

“What is it?”

The Doctor’s voice seemed far away as memories resurfaced. The older man who helped her find her way back in time. Yes—his name was Wilfred Mott. The custodian had looked familiar, now that she thought about it.

“Oh, um… the custodian. I think he’s related to someone I know.”

“Ah. Normally I’d find that fascinating, but…”

“I know.”

“Doesn’t make any sense. I’ve got nothing of interest to anyone!”

Rose finished replacing the books, and leaned against the doorway to the lab, trying to piece together what they could’ve been looking for based on where they’d rifled. But whoever it was seemed to search with no definitive pattern.

“It’s like they just came in here and made it  _appear_ like they were looking for something, you know?”

The Doctor rubbed his chin, uncertain. “Maybe. They completely missed several obvious places where I might’ve hidden something. Your standard chair cushions, behind the map, and so forth.”

Rose gazed at the world map as it was mentioned. “What about your time travel stuff?”

“I reckon I’m not the only imbecile in the world who’d be willing to waste time and resources on something that no one thinks will work, but no one has given me an indication that it’s coveted research. Many have even gone through lengths to point out why it’s a bad idea, and it should be stopped, and how it’s against the will of God.”

Rose was glad she hadn’t overheard anyone spout rubbish like that at him. She’d have given them a piece of her mind, and then some. She joined him at his desk when she’d finished straightening up hers.

“Fear is as good a reason as any to sabotage your work, and you did tell those blokes at the Christmas party that you were close.”

“Oh, blimey, you’re right. But it was a thimble! A mere thimble! I couldn’t even control the timeline trajectory.” He slowly rubbed his hand over his face with a groan. “That’s a terribly long cry from transporting an entire human to a very… specific… time…” He kept his hand over his mouth as he looked up at her. “Oh, no.”

“You don’t think…” Rose lowered her voice to a whisper. “Donna’s the only one who knows. Right?”

“As far as I know.”

“All of that time travel stuff’s in your attic. Well, what you couldn’t bring along.”

He nodded, gaze focused on the hallway beyond the office.  “Safely locked away. Mott said the first thing he did when he found this mess was to check the attic, and it was undisturbed. Then the police arrived to inspect the office, and the very next morning morning Mott phoned Rothay lodge.”

“I think someone may just be trying to have a go at me.” He sighed and leaned forward, elbows propped on the desk. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need to have a lie down.”

Rose reached out and caressed the nape of his neck, fingers sliding through his soft hair. “I’ll go with you.”

He turned to look at her with a soft smile. “Was hoping you’d say that.”

They grabbed their luggage and made their way through the quiet, nearly empty halls up to the attic. The Doctor slid his key into the door and it turned easily without a click. He frowned.

“What is it?”

“Unlocked,” he said, jaw set. He swallowed thickly and turned the knob. “Maybe Mott forgot to lock it back.”

Rose inspected the door for any sign of forced entry. Everything appeared to be fine, no scrapes on the wood, but she still felt uneasy.

He worked his jaw, deep dimples appearing. “Though that seems terribly irresponsible of him after what happened. No. It’s unlike him to forget.”

“I’ll go up first.”

“No. It’s all right.”

The Doctor pulled the door open, and the silence on the other side spilled into the hallway like a solid thing. They stood there, breathing. At last, he went up step by step ahead of her, his knuckles white as he gripped the bannister. Rose followed, heart hammering.

When the Doctor reached the top, his mouth dropped open. “No…”

Though Rose could see over the edge of the floor between the bannister rails if she wanted to, she couldn’t look. She kept her eyes on the Doctor, studying every breath and every minute twitch of muscle.

He drifted forward, hands in his hair. There was the sound of his foot hitting something small and metallic. “No, no! This cant’ be!”

Rose climbed the remaining steps to join him, and it was worse than she imagined.

The time machine had been destroyed. Utterly. A splintered hole gaped at her from one of the outer walls, and the doors had been busted off of the hinges. Something crunched under her foot as she moved forward. Inside, the glass column and control panel were reduced to indiscernible rubbish piles, spilling out to the hardwood floor. Pieces of machinery, gears, valves, glass, and bits of metal were everywhere. Flung about by the force of the attack.

She heard the Doctor wail, and she went to his side in an instant. On the desk was a box she’d seen before—that night she slept here. Inside, also smashed into pieces, lay the remains of a once shiny pocket watch. Shards of its multi-dialed face littered the desk, its silver case was cracked in three, and the guts, the tiny springs and cogs, were scattered across the desk.

The Doctor collapsed into the desk chair, eyes roving the room in a stupor of grief. “Who would do this to me?”

Rose hesitantly put her hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off. He shot to his feet, and tore across the room to the file cabinet where he kept the research locked away. It was partially opened, and Rose’s stomach sank further.

“Gone,” he said, matter-of-fact. “All of it.”

“But – but you brought it with you on the train. Didn’t you? I saw you working on it.”

“Copies. A few current notes. But all of the backbone work I’d done was here, and now it’s gone.”

“You’ve got your journal, that’s something. I saw the technical drawing of the watch.”

He spun towards her then, fury in his eyes. “Stop it! Look around you! Don’t you see? It’s all gone! Destroyed!” He flung his hand out, indicating the disaster surrounding them. “Oh, sure, they might not have everything, but they’ve done enough damage, don’t you think? I’m ruined!”

She felt his humiliation and anger in her own body, squeezing her heart, and she wanted nothing more than to soothe him.

“I’m here,” she said, so softly she wasn’t sure he’d heard it at first.

He gave a derisive, stinging laugh. “Oh, thanks! You’re here! That makes up for everything!” He threw a book across the room, aiming for his telescope. It nearly hit a spyglass mounted on a shelf by the window.

Rose didn’t flinch under his angry outburst, but she couldn’t prevent the prickle of tears behind her eyes. Her heart broke for him. He’d worked so hard. Years, even, for everything to be smashed apart. His anger was more than justified. She went quiet, knowing he needed to process his feelings, reminding herself that he was devastated and lashing out.

He sighed and stood in silhouette of the light from the window. Motes of dust shimmered and swirled around him. “Sorry. I shouldn’t’ve shouted at you. It’s not your fault.”

He went to the bed and sat on the edge, cradling his head in his hands.

Rose took a steadying breath, and sat down on the bed next to him.

“It’s all over,” he moaned. “They all had a laugh over my work. All the time I was the brunt of their jokes.” He looked up at the broken shell of the time machine helplessly. “It never bothered me before, but this…?”

“Hey,” she said, gently garnering his attention. She put her hand on his forearm.

He took a breath and looked down at her hand.

“I’m here, Doctor. D’you think I’d be here if it were all over? If you were ruined? I came back in time because your machine worked. I have the pocket watch you made, yeah? I wouldn’t have it if this was the end. I wouldn’t be here.”

He grew very quiet and still, staring at her hand, and then off at the empty space beside her. “You’re here,” he repeated.

“Yes. So someone stole your data and smashed things up. We’ll find out who it was and steal it right back. They won’t get very far with it, you’ll see. And then you can start rebuilding it.  I’ll do anything I can to help.”

The Doctor finally looked over to her, his eyes heavy with defeat even as they met hers. “But where do we start? How can I possibly recover from this?”

“One step at a time.” She squeezed his arm. “The detective will be here later, yeah? We’ll make a list of everything that was taken or destroyed. Hand that over and keep a copy for ourselves. Talk to the custodian again, see if he heard anything. He said your attic was untouched on the night your office was ransacked, so that means they had to do this after. Easter maybe. No one would be there to hear it, yeah?”

His eyes slid away, and then roamed the room. “I know what they were looking for the in my office.”

“That’s good. What?”

“A key.”

“Was there one to find?”

“No. Aside from you, the custodian is the only person who has a spare, and he wouldn’t just let anyone up here. Somehow they got the key from him. Had to have.” He blew out an exhale, rustling his fringe. “Or they know how to pick a lock.”

“See? We’re moving forward.” She slid her hand down his forearm towards his hand, and he grasped it firmly. She blinked away tears and smiled tenderly at their joined hands. “Once we make that list, we’ll make another of the things you need in order to make repairs. I’ll go fetch them for you. Whatever it takes. You’re not going to deal with this alone, you hear me, Doctor?”

He stared at her, brows meeting.  “Lessons start up again on Wednesday. How m’I supposed to—”

“One thing at a time.” She reached up to fix a lock of his fringe that was leaning in an odd direction.  “Let’s focus on today. Right now, ‘kay? It had to be someone with access to your lab. Someone who can walk around here without suspicion during a holiday. Another professor maybe. Could any of them’ve done this?”

He looked up in thought, eyebrows lowered. “I can think of a few if I stop considering them colleagues and friends.”

“Whoever you think of, tell the police.”

He nodded with a heavy exhale.

Rose leaned against him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Doctor.”

He brushed his thumb along hers. “Not your fault.”

“We’ll get this sorted, and you’ll be back to where you were before. You’re clever; I bet you remember almost all of it anyway, yeah?”

“Yes. Not all of it, mind.”

She turned to press a kiss on his arm, lips brushing against pinstripes. “Let’s work on cleaning stuff up and making the lists. Whoever did this, we’re on to them. They won’t get far.”

He smiled, soft, yet his eyes were still full of sorrow. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’ll go tell Mott to phone the police. They’ll wanna see this before we clean things up.”

“Right.”

She stood and turned to go, but he still had a firm hold of her hand. He tugged her back towards him.

“Thank you, Rose.”

She smiled down at him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his cheek against her, right below her breasts. She ran her fingers through his hair. He released her, and kissed her hand before standing himself.

“I’ll start on those lists,” he said.

Rose left to alert Mott on what had happened. He wasted no time in phoning the police, yet was adamant that his building keys had never left his sights.

“I take them with me everywhere I go,” he said. “I assure you. Someone had to’ve picked that blasted lock. I keep telling John that he needs better security.” He huffed and sighed. “Oh, what a spot of bother. This whole mess.”

“S’okay, sir. We’ll sort it. Thanks for your help.”

She returned to the attic to help the Doctor with the lists whilst they awaited the police. He’d made a lot of progress in the meantime, using a fresh field journal for the task. In less than an hour, they had it all sorted. Things that could be easily fixed, things that were destroyed, and things that couldn’t be replaced. At least the parts he’d invented himself could be remade. 

When the officers arrived, the Doctor and Rose waited in the hall as the team combed over the room for evidence. One of them, a burly fellow with a bushy, walrus moustache, came down to ask for a statement and any other information or suspicions they could offer.

“Pardon me, sir, but how long till you lot clear out? I’d like to begin repairs as soon as possible.”

“It’ll take as long as it takes. You want us to find who did this?”

The Doctor tugged at his ear. “Well, yes.”

“Right then.” He went back upstairs.

The Doctor sighed dramatically.

“Let’s go for something to eat, what d’you say? Could use a bit of fresh air.”

“Oh, all right.”

After a stop by a pub that soothed both of their spirits, they returned to McCrimmon Hall and caught the officers on their way out.

“Find anything?” asked the Doctor.

“Nothing definitive yet, but we’ll keep you informed.”

The Doctor grumbled a thank you, and stalked up the attic stairs. He wanted to get to work on restoring his time machine. Piece by piece. Rose followed, ready to help however she could.

He engrossed himself in the work, not once looking up to speak. There were no happy songs in his heart, no words to share. Rose offered to put on a vinyl, but he just gave her a listless ‘no.’ He wanted to be alone. She understood.

Rose grabbed the list of parts that were easily replaceable, a few of them he’d noted could be found around campus, and left with a promise to return in a little while.

She set out, thinking the other science labs and offices would be a good start. Only a few professors were back from break preparing for the return of students. Most of them were helpful, even Professor Saxon, who had been rude to her before.

“What have you got there, dear?” he asked, smiling.

“Um, I reckon you heard about what happened to the Doc—to Professor Noble’s office.”

“Yes. Such a shame.”

“Well whoever it was also destroyed things in his attic, and I’ve a list here of parts to replace. Have you got any of this stuff? I don’t even know what most of it is.”

Professor Saxon stood and came around his desk. He plucked the list out of Rose’s hand and read it aloud under his breath.

“Ah! Why yes. I have a pneumatic actuator. Stay here.” He handed back her note and drifted into his lab for a few moments.

Rose nosed around his office whilst she waited, as inconspicuously as she could. There was no time to go through drawers or piles of folders, but she did spy an opened letter on familiar stock sticking out from underneath an old physics tome. She reached over to pull it out, but only managed to tug it partway before she heard his footsteps returning.

Swearing to herself, she quickly resumed her previous stance, pulse thrumming.

Professor Saxon rounded the corner, offering her a small, yet heavy cylindrical object. “Here you are.”

Rose smiled, taking it and slipping it into the satchel with the other bits she’d recovered. “Thanks.”  She had to get a better look at the writing on the corner of that letter. She needed to stall. Think, think!

“Um, did you have a nice Easter?”

He returned to his seat before answering. “Indeed. Did you have a good time in Scotland? I’m terribly sorry it was cut short, by the way.”

“Oh, it was lovely.” She stretched a bit, and pretended to adjust the twist in her hair as she peered at the letter. She just couldn’t make anything out on the letter. Maybe it was nothing, but something about it bothered her.

“Good.” He picked up his pen and began to write.

“Were you here the other night, by chance? Did you hear anything strange?”

He responded without looking up. “No. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Rose left, still feeling uneasy. When she returned to the attic with a few items checked off, she found the Doctor having a tea break with Donna. The Doctor hopped up from his seat to help her with the replacement parts, thanking her profusely, and set them out carefully on his desk.

He picked one of them up. “Huh.”

Donna stood, and Rose greeted the woman with a hug and a warm smile before she could ask what he’d found.

“Donna! S’good to see you,” said Rose.

“Miss havin’ you around the house. John told me what happened. First you go traipsing around Scotland for a bloody poisonous meteorite—which, don’t get me started on that—only to come back to this mess. You two’ve been through a lot.”

“That’s an understatement,” the Doctor said to himself. He returned to his seat, and began tinkering with a part from the control panel in his lap. “Set back by years, more like it.”

“Oh, you’re brilliant, you’ll figure it out,” said Donna. “See?” She gestured to him with a biscuit. “You’re already back to it.”

“Some of these mechanisms were from other countries, I’ll have you know. One of a kind.”

“The bugger must’ve known you’d be gone.” Donna sipped her tea. “Might have even arranged for you to go on that trip in the first place.”

“No.” He pulled a face. “Torchwood didn’t put anyone up to this. They’ve never shown an ounce of interest in my work.”

“Torchwood? What kind of name is that?” Donna snorted. “Well, anything’s possible. You always said that, John.”

“Except when it’s impossible,” he muttered.

“What was it you said to Jack?” Rose asked. “Something about a conspiracy organization that’d keep interfering?”

“Oh, well, yes. They’re the ones who’d send me threatening letters or protest my gala lectures, but they’re harmless. Barmy, but harmless.”

Donna laughed. “You’re all bonkers!”

Rose furrowed her brow. “Torchwood did send you a fake letter, yeah? Making you think it was for the National Astronomy Association or whatev—”

“International Astronomy Research Guild,” he corrected.

“Whatever. You wouldn’t’ve gone if not for that, yeah? As soon as we’re way up there, your office is ransacked. And the next night, your attic’s busted. They knew we was comin’ back so they had to be quick about it. Blimey… but they didn’t know we’d take off to check on those sick people. What if they waited ‘till we was accounted for before they went for your time machine? Maybe that’s why there’s a day between?”

The Doctor’s brow furrowed. “That’s not something I want to think about. We just entrusted them with an entire village of people.”

“And they’ve got a poisonous rock,” Donna added.

“Even better,” said the Doctor with a heavy sigh.

“See anything odd whilst walking around campus, Rose?” asked the Doctor.

“Well, there was one thing. I stopped by Professor Saxon’s office.”

The Doctor’s tongue poked out as he squinted and aimed the screwdriver at one of the wires in his lap. “He’d never try to ruin my life behind my back. He’d want to see the look on my face.”

“Well, he had a letter. Looked like the one you got from that fake Astronomy guild.”

“It’s an actual guild, Rose. That’s why it tricked me.”

She sighed. “Do you wanna hear me out or what?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Anyway, thought it looked suspicious, but I couldn’t get a good look at it. He asked about our trip, oh, he had the actuator thingy. I dunno, he gave me a weird feeling.”

Donna tisked. “This whole ordeal gives me a weird feeling. Straight out of a science fiction novel.”

“Oh, we saw Sarah Jane!” The Doctor looked up with a smile.

“No! How’s she getting on? Blimey, haven’t seen her in ages. She used to fancy you like mad, you know.”

“Did she?” He scratched the back of his head.

Rose went quiet as they talked, sipping her tea. If Torchwood was indeed responsible for sending them away so that someone could sabotage the Doctor’s work, she wondered if Jack knew. Or Sarah Jane. The very thought of anyone they’d met being in on this scheme made her stomach churn. She glanced over at the Doctor, hating this for him so much.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Donna stood. “Have some things to do before I turn in.” She put her hand on the Doctor’s shoulder as she walked around him. “Sorry about all this. It’s not fair.”

He put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks, Donna.”

She left, and the Doctor went back to work in silence. Rose became restless, tapping her foot and biting her thumb nail. Eventually, her stomach began to growl noisily.

“What would you like to eat?” asked the Doctor, smiling. His specs were perched on the end of his nose, eyes still bored into the intricacies of the control panel piece in his lap.

“Oh, god. Chips. More than anything.”

“Oh, yes! I could do with a good plate of fish and chips myself. There’s a chippy right off campus. The oldest in London.”

Rose sat up with a grin. “I know, I’ve been there a few times now.”

The Doctor laughed, removing his specs and sliding them into his inner coat pocket. “Well that’s settled.”

“Then you can drop me off at Reinette’s. I need to take my laundry, and, well…I didn’t think that, um…” She didn’t want to assume they could sleep together in the attic, especially with professors returning from the break. They’d certainly get caught.

“It’ll be late,” he said.

She twirled a loose lock of hair around her finger. “Yeah, they don’t expect us back until tomorrow anyway.”

He set the contraption on the table. “Maybe you can stay here?”

“But think of what they might say!” She put her hand on her chest, affecting a scandalised tone.

“Bah. I’ll tell them we stopped over at Gretna Green.”

Rose smiled, heart swelling in her chest. “All right then. But only if you’re up here with me.”

He gave her a look. “I thought that was implied. I very well can’t sleep on the sofa in my office. It’s a crime scene.”

“So’s this place.”

“Whose side are you on?”

Rose laughed, and the Doctor smiled, watching her.

“I’ll go fetch us some food after I bring up the luggage.”

“’Kay.” She bit her lip as her grin grew bigger.

He stood, and so did she. He grabbed his long coat, and leaned back to give her a quick kiss before heading downstairs. In his absence, she gave the room a close inspection. They’d tidied up most of the debris, but she hoped to find other clues.

The Doctor returned with the luggage, and then headed out again, giving her time to wash up in the bathroom downstairs, take the dozens of pins from her hair, and change into a clean chemise. She began sorting through her luggage, and pulled out the last, unworn dress. She was most fond of it, and held it up to herself with a dreamy smile, hating that she never got a chance to wear it. It was plum purple with a gold design that reminded her of Egyptian art. She put it in the wardrobe, and turned on the gramophone. It filled the room with a passionate, happy tune that inspired her to dance.

She hadn’t heard the Doctor return, so enthralled in the melody, and gasped as she turned to see him standing at the top of the steps, food in his hands and a mesmerized look on his face. He shook it off and smiled, setting down the food and joining her.

“May I dance with you?” He reached out his hand.

She grinned against her shoulder, and beckoned him over.

He took her hand, and she resumed her dance, twirling under his arm. He pulled her close, and they swayed when the melody shifted to something softer. With her arms encircling his shoulders, they gazed at each other, completely forgetting that they’d been hungry.

Their lips met, and then they forgot about the music, hands roaming over and under clothing, unfastening buttons and clasps. She sighed his name, and moved him towards the bed.  Within moments, she was astride him, undulating as he grasped her hips and watched her hair caress her bare shoulders.

His resolve had strengthened, or perhaps the events of the day still weighed on his mind, for this time he held on. She leaned over and kissed him, felt his long fingers stroke her thighs.

“Show me how to – how to please you,” he said, breathing deep. He stilled her with a gentle hand on her face. “I want nothing more than that.”

Rose bit her lip, her desire for him swelling beyond anything she’d ever felt before. She slipped off of him, and moved to lay alongside him. He turned towards her, and caressed her body, kissing her shoulder.

She obliged, turning so she could guide his face lower. He trailed kisses as he went downward, and when his mouth met her sex she hardly had to say a word, other than his name.

 

In the morning, Rose awoke to the sound of the Doctor making repairs. He had the fob watch parts spread around himself on the desk, and was wearing some kind of magnifying headpiece. Rose stood and slipped on her chemise, treading lightly across the wooden floorboards to stand behind him.

He hummed as she kissed the top of his head. “Blimey, you can sleep through a lot.”

Rose laughed and leaned in to nuzzle the soft curl of hair behind his ear. “Mmm, you wore me out.”

He looked up at her with a dopey smile. “Oh, my. We can say stuff like that now, can we?”

“We can.” She pressed her tongue against her incisor as she grinned.

He turned red, and looked away from her, hiding a smile. “There’s breakfast on the table for you.”

“Mmm, thanks. I’m starving.”

“Was that my fault as well?”

Rose picked up a muffin and bit into it. “Totally. How’s all that going, by the way?”

“It’s damaged more badly than I thought,” he said, sobering. “The face is completely shattered. It took forever to make it.”

“Oh, I know! D’you want to see the one I have? The one I came here with?”

“Erm…” He hesitated, lips forming a thin line. Then he sighed. “Perhaps it would help.”

“You can reverse engineer it, maybe. Didn’t you say you could do that with the brooch?”

“I don’t think that’s wise. I’ll just take a quick peek.”

She combed her fingers through a lock of hair, thinking. “Okay, yeah. Just a peek. Maybe it’ll feel less hopeless to hold it in your hands and know you’ll make it again.”

He nodded, smiling slightly. “All right.”

She moved over to her luggage and pulled out a shawl to wrap around herself, and then reached for the coin purse tucked away in a corner. She opened it, and fished around inside as she carried it to him.

“Hang on, s’caught on something.”

She turned the purse upside down, giving it a shake. The pocket watch and a few other items dropped to the desk with a clatter. She picked up the pocket watch as a gleam caught her eye. A coin that had fallen from the purse still spun on its side. It wobbled, and at last landed face up, the year 2007 illuminated by the morning sun.

“No…”

Dread siphoned the very blood from her veins in an instant.

A strong pulling sensation in her solar plexus made her gasp. The tug expanded to her stomach, and her heart, like falling backwards down a rollercoaster. She sought the Doctor, hands grasping, trying to ground herself, but he was so far away. He reached for her, his expression horrified.

“ROOOOSE!”

The whole world went blurry, but she still heard him calling. It echoed across time, making her eyes snap open as though startled awake. Her hands were curled tightly around the pocket watch, clutching it like it was fused to her bones. She spun around in disbelief, holding her breath.

The blue time machine was there in one piece, but the Doctor was gone.

“Oh my god, no! NO!”

The words tore out of her in a terrified scream.

She dropped the pocket watch. It fell to the floor with a metallic clap. She took a step back, not believing what had just happened. She rubbed her eyes, and held her hands over her face, not wanting to see. Her body shook with a sob she hadn’t realized was building, and tears welled in her eyes.

Thunder sounded overhead, a gentle roll across the sky. She stood there, frozen, as fat raindrops pelted the window pane.  He was gone. Just like that. Like turning off a light. Like closing a door.

Rain quickened to a pour outside, pounding on the roof overhead, and she fell to her knees.

“Take me back,” she said, reaching for the pocket watch. Her hands shook as she held it up. She set the date. “Yeah, you - you can—can take me back.”

She shuffled over to the time machine, and choked on sobs as she put the face of the pocket watch into its recess on the door.

But nothing happened.

“NO! TAKE ME BACK!” She screamed till her voice was raw, and beat on the worn blue wood. “Please! Take me back!”

It couldn’t, of course—the time machine had been destroyed. She had no idea when he fixed it. Could’ve taken months, could’ve taken years. Leaning against the door, she pressed her hand on the surface, her sobs dwindling.

She listened, squeezing her eyes shut. She wasn’t even sure what she was listening for, but decades went by under her fingers. He’d already mourned her loss, he’d already moved on. Found someone else, perhaps. Made a family. Somewhere in time, he was also dying.

Her heart collapsed in on itself. A black hole, dragging the rest of her inside. Crushing her whole.

“Take me back,” she pleaded weakly, tears falling. She cried until she had no more tears to shed.

After a few moments, she heard a noise at the base of the stairs below. But she didn’t care. The rain kept pelting against the roof, and she imagined being tossed around in the surf.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Wilf. His voice was an iron ball at her ankle, pulling her under, finishing her off. She curled up tighter, burrowing her face into her knees.

Footsteps followed. “Oh, oh my. Is it really you?”

“Go away, please,” Rose said in a feeble voice.

“Rose Tyler. You’ve been gone so long.”

She opened her eyes at that. “H-how long?”

“A year, give or take. Everyone’s been terribly worried about you, my dear.”

She sniffled, not having the strength to do much else.

“What’s happened to you?”

“I said go away. I need to be alone.”

“ _Please_.” She’d beg if she had to. The room was all she had left of him now.

She heard him sigh. “All right. Well, I’m going to let your mother know you’re back.”

Rose didn’t respond, and after a beat, his footsteps descended the stairs. Alone again, she looked up at the pocket watch, still wedged in its little alcove on the door, and still wholly useless. She turned, leaning her back against the doors, and took in the room surrounding her.

The Doctor’s desk collected dust where he’d been sitting just minutes ago tinkering with the pocket watch. His bed was there too, covered in stacks of old books instead quilts, tousled from their lovemaking. Tears slipped down her cheeks; she didn’t think she had any more to spare. The two paintings she’d done for him still hung on the walls. It was all too much. She couldn’t breathe. God, why did she have to make such a stupid suggestion?

Rose stood and paced the room, trying to quiet the mutiny of guilt and anger and anguish swirling inside. She bit her nails till they were raw, and the afternoon lingered on. She never wanted to leave. Leaving the room meant leaving him behind, and she never could. Not ever.

The wardrobe caught her eye, and she went to it, pulling the door open. There, stacked neatly as if to mock her were her old clothes. A t-shirt and jeans with a terrible hoodie. Never in a thousand years would she have thought she’d despise the sight of modern garments. She shoved it all aside, and lifted the baseboard. There was his journal where she’d left it before. She took it out and cradled it in her arms, a fresh wave of agony twisting in her chest.

She rested her cheek on its worn leather surface as though he could feel her touch through the distance of time.

“ _I love you_.”

The words came out in a whisper, with a hitch of breath, and she hadn’t realized how terribly she wished she had told him in person till then. Clenching her teeth to swallow another surge of emotion, she lowered the journal to her lap.

Her hand trembled as she brushed her fingers over the cover, and then opened it carefully. She flipped through, every brittle page opening a new wound, until she reached the drawing of her he’d done on the train. She hadn’t really noticed it the first time, but this time… she could feel his love for her with every line. No detail went unnoticed. The angle of her eyebrows. The freckle on her shoulder. He cherished each and every thing about her, and now he was gone.

She closed the journal, unable to bear it any longer, and sat against the wardrobe in a bewildered daze.

There was a knock at the door. Rose took a deep breath. The door opened.

“Sweetheart?”

Fresh tears filled her eyes at the sound of her mother’s voice. She stood on shaky legs.

“Come in,” she called.

Jackie rushed up the stairs, and Rose had to close her eyes to not see the look on her face. Her mother’s arms went around her, pulling her close.

“Oh, my sweet Rose, it’s really you! Oh, my god. Where’ve you  _been_?”

Rose held onto her mother, and a fresh wave of tears came to her eyes. For a long time she just cried, and her mother rubbed her back, whispering soothing words.

“I was travelling, mum, that’s all.”

Jackie held Rose at arm’s length, and grasped her face in both hands. “What sort of answer is that? How’d you end up here in this dingy attic? I’ve spent months and months worrying sick about you!”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Well you’re comin’ home, you are. And what the hell’re you wearin’? Your eyes are all puffy, goodness, Rose, you’re a right mess.”

“Can we just go?”

“Blimey, Rose, why won’t you say what happened?”

Rose let her mum fret whilst she put on her old clothes, finding them far too loose and uncomfortable. She wrapped the journal in the shawl, and yanked the pocket watch from the time machine door.

“Let’s go, mum. I don’t want to be here anymore.” She’d been wrong. This room wasn’t  _him._  This room practically screamed his absence.

“Fine by me.”

They went downstairs, and the portrait of the Doctor on the wall was unavoidable. She drifted over to it, pulled by some inner tide. All of the silly little things that had made her fancy him were still there—the freckles, the hair, the warmth in his smile. They all felt childish now that she knew what his voice sounded like when he said her name, and how his hand felt in hers.

“Who’s that?” asked Jackie. “He’s fit for a dead bloke, ain’t he?”

Rose was too numb to react, but she knew those words would keep her awake at night.

“He was looking at me.”

“What?”

She lifted her hand to touch the portrait, but hesitated. “Nothing.”

Her mother sighed. “Come on, love. Pete’s waitin’ in the car.”

 

The ride home was torment. Everything about modern life that she’d missed, all of it meant nothing without him. All the buildings made of steel and glass, the advertisements for television programmes. Pedestrians with skinny jeans and smart phones. The bloody London Eye.

She closed her eyes and let her forehead rest against the cool glass of the car window.

When they arrived at Pete’s mansion, Rose felt even more like a stranger in this world. They tried to feed her, took her to her room, suggested a shower, and offered tea. But she just wanted to sleep.

“You know what terrifies me?” her mother asked as she set a cup of tea on the bedside table. “That you won’t tell me what happened. Where did you go? Are you hurt, sweetheart? You seem so sad. I just don’t know what to do.”

“I was with the Doctor, travelling. That’s all.”

“Who? Oh, bloody hell, Rose. You know the university suspended you! You went off with some bloke this whole time? I worried about you after what you pulled with Jimmy. How old was this one, then?  _The Doctor_. More like the pervert if you ask me.”

“Stop, mum, just please. It wasn’t like that.”

“I just wish you’d have phoned me. Just once!”

“’M sorry.”

Jackie gave a sigh. “Well, go on and sleep. ‘M just glad you’re back. I love you, Rose.”

“Love you too, mum.”

 

A few days passed. They bled together like watercolour. Tony had wanted to play, but she could barely focus on helping him with a puzzle. Martha and Mickey stopped by to see her, but she wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened. She hadn’t opened the journal since she left the Doctor’s attic. It was too much.

One night, she lay awake in bed, going over in her mind what had happened before she’d dumped out the contents of her stupid, wretched purse. Their trip to Scotland. Torchwood and the meteorite. Being called home to find his work had been sabotaged. It felt good to think about those things for a change, and not about how she was afraid to walk past a cemetery in case she found a gravestone bearing his name.

She drifted off to sleep, and dreamt of him. He called out her name, and it sounded so real that she gasped awake. The echo of it resonated in her ears, and she stared into the darkness of her room. She swung her legs out of bed, and reached for the drawer on the bedside table.

The Doctor’s field journal was there where she’d kept it. She took it out, and opened it, smiling at his handwriting. His errant musings. His clever calculations, and dreamlike sketches. She reached the drawing he did of her, and another—the one from the train. She hadn’t gone beyond that before, but now… now she felt like she could face whatever had happened next.

But there was nothing. It was blank, for pages and pages. And then something slipped out into her lap. She picked up the folded sheet of paper, and opened it, her heart racing.

_My Dearest Rose,_

_It is my desperate hope that you will find this not long after you emerge in your time, though it has been three years since I saw you last. I_   _’m making final repairs to the time machine as I write this very message.  When I think of decades passing by before you find this letter, my chest aches._

_They discovered who had it destroyed. It was indeed Torchwood; they wanted control over the technology. Professor Saxon had gone to them, enticing them with my secrets in exchange for access to the meteorite. Jack and Ianto had no idea, though there were moles in their team keeping a watchful eye. They suspected you, and Saxon was planning on bringing you in as evidence. Fortunately that did not come to pass._

_But enough of that. Do you remember our little friend, Jenny? She_   _’s with me here now in London. I adopted her, in fact. As an orphan myself, I knew too well the pain of her loss. There_   _’s so much more to tell you, but I_   _’d rather wait until I can hold your hand. We all miss you terribly. We_   _’re close now. It won_   _’t be long._

_Yours always,_

_The Doctor_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lostinfic and lauraxxtennant for the betas. 
> 
> As mentioned in my Tumblr post, I have removed the clues of Rose's pregnancy from this chapter. She is no longer pregnant in this version of the story. I did not intend on this direction when I first began to write the fic, and my muse took me there in the last couple chapters. However many have expressed distress at this, so it is no longer part of the main fic. 
> 
> Those of you who enjoyed that aspect will be hopefully be happy to know I am writing an epilogue that will take place a few years into the future, where you will see them as a family. Anyone who isn't fond of that sort of thing can simply avoid reading the epilogue, if you like, instead of it being present in the actual story.

Rose closed her eyes after reading the letter. The Doctor’s soothing voice flowed through her mind, as though he was there speaking the words out loud.  She attempted to read it again, but fat teardrops splashed on the old ink, making the letters bleed. Afraid of destroying it, she took the edge of her shirt and dabbed the paper, then set the letter and journal aside to dry her eyes.

Her heart nearly burst with hope. Of course he’d find a way. He was brilliant, and he cared for her—that much was clear. She gingerly slid the letter back into the book, and returned it to the drawer where the gleam of the pocket watch caught her eye. She reached for it with a wistful smile, letting the cool chain slip between her fingers. It was proof that he had rebuilt what was destroyed. Just like the time machine that aided her original journey back in time.

It all seemed silly now, all of her wallowing in despair. Of course they’d see each other again. However long it took, it would be worth the wait. She kissed the Doctor’s engraved initials on the back of the watch, and placed it back into the drawer.

The following morning, Rose showered and dressed for the day, and entered the kitchen with a lightness to her steps that made Jackie narrow her eyes curiously.

“Feeling better, sweetheart? I see you showered.”

Rose snatched a biscuit. “A little, yeah.”

Jackie kept a concerned eye on her daughter as she poured them both a cuppa. “I wish you’d tell me what happened. Weren’t fair to keep me terrified you’d been taken, or killed. You went travelling with some man and didn’t think to phone your mum.”

Rose sobered, and sat on the stool at the counter. “I couldn’t. I wanted to, but I—well, you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s not just that.”

“Try me. After that stunt you pulled in Paris, I’d believe you could do anything.” She set a mug of tea in front of Rose, and leaned against the counter with her own cuppa.

She sighed, fidgeting with a strand of hair. The urge to confide in her mother was so strong, but she didn’t want anyone to know too much in case it affected the timelines for the Doctor’s ability to find her. “I promise I’ll tell you everything someday. Won’t be long.”

“Why can’t you tell me now? Blimey, Rose, I’m your mum!”

Rose twisted a ring on her thumb, guilt mounting. “Fine. Just this. I did meet someone, the Doctor. We, uh, went travelling. I was completely safe, and things were so brilliant I didn’t realise how much time had passed. I wanted to let you know I was okay, but I couldn’t. Had nothin’ to do with him, it was just the logistics of it all. I can’t really explain it right now, but I promise I will.”

Jackie clucked and rolled her eyes. “You’d better, and if I find out this Doctor of yours hurt you in any way I’ll knock’im a year into the future and see how he likes it, the sod.”

“He didn’t hurt me! Not at all, so lay off it.”

“You weren’t on drugs were you?”

“Mum, no! God.”

“I ask these things ‘cos I missed you. I was scared, Rose. You was just gone without a trace.”

Rose got down from the stool and approached Jackie, pulling her into a tight embrace. Tears prickled behind her eyes at the residual anguish in her mother’s voice.

“I love you. M’sorry. But please trust me. I was more than all right.”

Jackie returned Rose’s embrace. “You’re my little girl. I don’t want nothing to ever happen to you is all. It was the worst feeling in the world, losing you. A whole year I searched.”

Rose sniffled and held her mother tighter. She felt horrible. There’d been no warning that a year of time could’ve passed. A whole year.

_Oh, no…_

Numbness took over her body as the realisation set in. The Doctor had no idea that she’d been sent to the wrong time. Would he know to show up a year from when she’d disappeared? How on earth will he know how to find her? She slowly released her mother, and stared around, as though searching for reassurances in thin air.

“Sweetheart?”

The time machine was still functional in this time. Maybe she could travel into the future and find out—but that could carry too great a risk. What if she got stuck? Not to mention it was cheating, in a sense, wasn’t it? But she had to know, or get some kind of message to him. Maybe she could go back to the past to do just that. Back to when she knew the time machine was still intact.

“I gotta go,” Rose said distractedly. She hurried up to her room, leaving her mother bewildered. She felt like she was in some kind of dream, and she had to take control, make it lucid, or everything could fall to pieces.

She opened the drawer and withdrew the pocket watch. Prying open the latch, she then fidgeted with the settings, weighing the pros and cons of different distances of time into the future or past. In every instance the cons by far outweighed the pros. She just couldn’t do it. The potential for running into herself or messing up timelines and creating paradoxes was too great.

But the same would be true for him were he to make his way to the future not knowing where she was, and his understanding of the risks was far more informed than hers. What if he decided not to do it? What if he never even tried?

With a scoff, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Of course he’d figure out a way to find her. He wouldn’t just give up. Either way, if he couldn’t make it to her, she’d find a way back to him. She just needed a bit more information first. Where to start…

The reason why she’d been sent back in time in the first place was never really clear to her. There was a point where she stopped questioning it, and just lived. But it seemed a good place to begin.

She sat at the desk and opened her laptop to search for Dr. Susan Foreman’s contact information. The results linked her to the Linvale University website—apparently she had joined the board of trustees for a scholarship, but only an email address was listed.

Rose took a deep breath, and began to draft the email.

_Professor Foreman,_

_Two years ago you came to me in the auditorium of McCrimmon hall and gave me a pocket watch. I did as you asked and went back to him. I spent many months with him, but I did something stupid and ended up back here. I don’t know if my reason for you sending me was fulfilled, but I need to find him again. I feel like you’re the only person who can help. Please._

_Rose Tyler_

She clicked send, and exhaled a whoosh of breath, stirring a bit of fringe by her eye. A photo of McCrimmon Hall popped up on the university website. She didn’t think she’d want to go back there, but now she couldn’t think of doing anything better with her time.

When she arrived, she stood before the statue of Jamie McCrimmon and tried to think of where to go first. It was all so strange. Familiar and yet not the same at all. She could almost feel the ghosts of people from the past all around her, walking with the living. Her own body felt out of synch, like she stood astride both eras, not belonging in either but visiting both. The very first campus tour that the Doctor took her on came to mind, and she set off to all of the places that the Doctor had shown her. The bench where he liked to read, the grove, and other little hidden histories along the way. She stood in the courtyard and looked up through the very same trees as she had a century before, and if she blotted out the sound of traffic in the distance, she could make herself believe that she was back in his time.

The chatter of students passing through took her out of the trance, and their modern clothing disorientated her for a moment. She continued on, and cut down the pavement, following her internal compass where it willed her to go.

As she wandered, she remembered the tunnel between the library and the theatre, and how there’d been modern technology hidden away. A spark of excitement ran through her, and she broke into a jog until she reached the ancient doors of the Gallifrey Library.  _Closed._

Just what day was it anyway? No matter. She darted down the pavement towards the theatre, where the tunnel let out on the other side. After purchasing a ticket to a film she never intended to see, she slipped inside, bypassed concession, and headed straight for the hallway that the Doctor had taken her before. But a giant wall decorated with movie posters stood in its place. She flagged down an usher, nearby.

“Um, ‘scuse me, but didn’t there used to be a hallway here?”

He shrugged. “Uh, I don’t think so.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. She then searched for the closest fire escape route posted on the wall. Her nerves were sparking, and she tapped her fingers on her legs, hopped from foot to foot. Fantasies popped into her mind of going down and finding that same technology there, and what if it was some kind of portal? She was this close to—but the fire escape route confirmed the hallway’s apparent non-existence. It was all rearranged. As she studied it, crestfallen, a custodian stopped by.

“Lost?” he asked.

“Uh, not really—oh. I’m doing this research paper on the theatre. It’s been open for a long time, any idea when it was renovated? I think the diagram I saw before had a hallway here.”

“Oh, there might’ve been. I don’t know. There was a fire here during the war. A bomb dropped nearby and destroyed a bit of this building.”

Rose’s heart sank. “Oh, that’s right. Thank you.”

So that left the library as the easiest way in, and she’d have to wait until it opened next. Dejected but not defeated, Rose left the theatre and continued on her walk.

Eventually she reached an old neighborhood, and found herself standing before Donna’s house. It looked just the same, though a bit nicer. There was a bicycle propped up by the steps, and fresh flowers in the garden. It felt wrong. The entire area had been restored to suit a wave of younger buyers interested in the novelty of another time.

The sun was setting by the time she returned home. She joined her family for supper, but retreated to her room soon after, too fatigued to sit there and listen to them chatter. After briefly checking her email and finding no reply, she relented to the comfort of her modern bed. She turned on the telly to watch the news, mildly curious about what’d happened in her absence. But after drifting off one too many times, she gave into it. The lights and telly now off, she turned to her side, she hugged her pillow and fell asleep.

 

The house creaked with a passing breeze, and her breath hitched as she startled awake. Feeling anxious, she climbed out of bed and padded across to the open window. The cool air soothed her, and she breathed in the scent of summer grass. A swimming pool glimmered in the moonlight below, reminding her of how the stars of the galaxy reflected in the loch where he first kissed her.

It also reminded her of the honeycomb pattern of the Torchwood logo, the way the moonlight struck the crests of the tiny waves in the windy night. That same logo had almost sent her back to her time the same way the coin had. She  _needed_ to get back into that tunnel. Pete might know about it, or he might not. Come to think of it, if Saxon had planned on bringing her in like the Doctor’s note had said, then Torchwood had knowledge of her existence in the past.  

There was no way she’d be able to go back to sleep now. She’d taken the first step out of the mire, and the next thing to do was take another. And another, and another, until she could run straight into the Doctor’s arms. It felt good though, to have finally taken those steps. Now, several pathways opened up before her, but most of them were too slow and indirect. It’d already felt like she’d been waiting forever for Susan’s reply. The quickest way back to the Doctor was to cut straight through to the heart.

But she couldn’t just ask Pete, as convenient as it was that he was Torchwood’s current CEO. He seemed to genuinely have no idea that she’d been in the past. If he’d known, shouldn’t he have attempted to find her? Also, she wasn’t so sure if he’d be willing to help her go back in time. Her mum would knock him into the ice age.

Rose fidgeted with her ear lobe, and wandered to the desk where she’d left her mobile. Mickey would know how to snoop around in Torchwood’s database. He used to do that sort of thing all the time—hack into networks and website databases just to see if he could.

Not even minding the time or thinking twice, she phoned him. It rang a few times and his voicemail picked up. She rang him again, and again, until finally a groggy voice answered.

“What the hell is it, Rose? You vibrated my phone off the table.”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“It’s 3am, I’ve got work in the morning.”

“I wanna,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “wanna hack into Torchwood.”

“You  _what_?”

Rose heard muffled noises, and another voice that sounded an awful lot like Martha’s. She was so confused, until she remembered that they had come together to check in on her while she’d been bleary and miserable with grief.

“Are you shagging my former flatmate?” Rose asked with mock incredulity.

“Not at this very moment, thanks. Was trying to sleep.”

“Please, Mick, it’s really important.”

“Torchwood? Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re mad. I can’t do it, Rose. You know I work there now?”

“You…what? Oh my god! Even better! Please,  _please_  help me out here. Need to look up some really old shit in their database.”

“Like how old? Can’t you ask Pete?”

“From 1913, and hell no. He’d never help me if he knew why.”

“Why, Rose? What’s this all about? You go missing for a year and this is the first thing you wanna do when you come outta your hidey-hole? No. I can’t. This is—I just can’t do it. They’d be on to me in a second. I don’t wanna lose my job. It’s legit, Rose. I’ve got a savings.”

“ _Please_.”

He sighed, and was quiet for a long time. So long Rose feared he’d fallen back to sleep.

At last, he spoke, his voice weary. “Tell me what you want me to look for and I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thank you, god, thank you so much.” She breathed a sigh of relief, tears stinging her eyes. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“’Kay,” she sniffled and took a deep breath, knowing he’ll think she’d gone barmy. But it didn’t matter. “Anything and everything about time travel, and, uh, a meteorite from March of 1913. And-and anything about a man named Doctor John Noble.”

He laughed. “This has to be the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me to do.”

“Mick, I really need this, like,  _now._  You writin’ it down?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll forget though. Time travel? Blimey—that it?”

“Yes, for now.”

“If I lose my job, Rose, over this Sci-Fi movie bollocks…”

“S’not bollocks, and I know you can get into it.”

“You don’t care if I lose my job, then?”

“You won’t. You’re good. If they try I’ll come up there.”

Mickey snorted. “I’d like to see that. All right, now piss off. I’m going back to bed.”

“Mickey—”

“What?”

“I missed you. I did.”

“Yeah you should. Anyway, don’t know why I’m agreein’ to do any of this. You just disappeared, and haven’t said anything about what happened. You even talk to your mum? She was so upset, Rose.”

“Sort of. I haven’t really gone into detail.” she sighed. “I just need to know certain things first. M’sorry.”

“Maybe you should tell  _me_  what the hell’s going on if you want me to do this.”

“I can’t.”

“Dammit, Rose.”

“Mickey, please, just trust me.”

He sighed. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Rose was about to thank him again when she heard the click of him hanging up. She held the phone against her chest. She hadn’t told him to look for anything about her, but there was a chance he’d find something with the queries she’d listed. That had to be enough for now.

 

Three days passed, and Rose had not heard from Mickey or Susan. After the second day, she’d been tempted to just ask Pete and hope for the best, but she’d rarely seen him. When she had, it was over supper, or whilst helping Tony with his homework. Waiting was torment, and to be idle only made the doubtful thoughts creep back in, so she filled the empty hours with art.

She sat outside in the garden with her sketchpad, adding details along the bridge of the Doctor’s nose. It was a portrait in profile, how he looked when he was focusing on his work. There were calculations in the angle of his brow, and invention in the purse of his lips. Though his hands were not on the page, she knew they’d be fashioning a powerful mechanism out of delicate things, just by the line of his jaw.

Everything had to be right. His ears, his neck, his eyelashes. Each sweet little part of him visible and alive. She didn’t think she could rely on her mind to hold on to his every freckle as days passed by, but it had. Her heart ached as she studied her creation. The longer she stared, the more it moved. Minute shifts of his eye, a gentle clench of his teeth. Intense focus embodied in every stroke of graphite. God, she missed him.

Her mobile rang, startling a bird nearby, and she sucked in a breath. It was Mickey. He’d done it without a hitch, well, mostly. He only had three minutes without detection, and much of what he’d found had been too heavily encrypted, but he got what he could. They made arrangements to meet at a pub later that day once he’d gotten off work.  

 

When Rose arrived at the pub, Mickey and Martha had already secured a booth behind the bar. They were talking over lagers with their shoulders pressed together and smiles lighting up their faces. Rose hung back till they finished nuzzling. It was odd seeing them together, and a pang of jealousy kept her in her place for a moment longer. She had missed this. Missed her best mate from childhood falling in love with her friend from uni. Missed him pining over her and asking her advice. How on earth had they met anyway?

They looked up and waved her over when they caught sight of her. She tucked away the sour feelings, and greeted them with hugs and kisses.

“Blimey. So you two... ‘M sorry I didn’t notice when you stopped by. I was just really bloody out of it.” Rose slid into the booth opposite of them.

“Yes we are,” said Mickey, puffing up proudly.

Martha grinned and waved her off reassuringly. “Didn’t think it was a good time to really bring it up anyway.”

A waitress stopped by to take their orders, and once she’d left, Rose leaned in towards them. “How’d you two meet anyway?”

Mickey shifted uncomfortably, and he exchanged a wary glance with Martha. His tone grew serious. “When you disappeared, we, uh…”

Martha put her hand over Mickey’s. “We met trying to find you.”

“Yeah. They questioned us both. I were even a suspect at one point! Same as that sod Jimmy Stone. But, uh… we had alibis. Still didn’t stop ‘em hounding.”

Rose furrowed her brow and bit her thumbnail as guilt twisted her stomach. “God, I’m sorry.”

“I know. But you’re not here for that, are you? Weren’t even on your mind till you saw us.”

Rose averted her eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up at the accusation. At how right he was.

Mickey slid a memory stick across to Rose. “That’s it. Hope it helps.”

Rose stared at the memory stick, in awe that the answers could fit inside this tiny bit of technology. Of course she’d remembered them from before, but after months without anything of the sort, the disparity of a century was palpable.  She slid it into her pocket, feeling a bit meek.

“Sorry, I really am. I mean it. I didn’t realize I’d be gone so long, I mean, for me it wasn’t a  year, and I’ve been—“

He sat forward. “You went back in time, didn’t you?”

Rose blinked, her thumbnail finding its way back between her teeth. “Um, what makes you think that?”

Mickey gave her a leveling look. “Come on, Rose. I’m not stupid. You asked me to find stuff about time travel after you go missing for a year, and the stuff I seen in that database…”

She rolled her earring between her thumb and forefinger as she sat back in the booth. “Yeah. Maybe I did. D’you actually believe it?”

“Seems impossible, but... when you said to look up that stuff, I didn’t expect to actually find anythin’. How’d you do it?”

Rose sucked in an anticipatory breath. “Tell me what you found first. C’mon, Mickey, I’m dying. What’d you find?”

“Not even gonna thank me. See what I have to put up with?” Mickey said, bumping Martha’s shoulder.

Martha raised her eyebrows and drank her lager, staying decidedly silent on the subject.

“Sorry. Thank you, really. I owe you. I just wanna make sure what you found lines up first.”

“Never could say no to you.” He sighed. “They had most of it encrypted, but I got what I could. Somethin’ about a meteorite that exists in four dimensions or some shit, and this John Noble bloke was the one who wrote the theory on how to use it for, uh… what did it say?  Precision time travel or something like that.”

Rose’s heart jumped at the sound of his name. “So that’s what was up with it? Exists in four dimensions.”

“Yeah. Whatever that means.”

“It occupies space and time. Time is the fourth dimension,” said Rose, remembering all of the student reports she’d graded, and all of the lectures she’d overheard. She stared off at nothing in particular, trying to conjure his exact words. “Time is relative. It moves at different speeds depending on an object’s distance from a centre of gravity. So maybe the meteorite can somehow transcend that. But does that mean it’s still in the ground at the crash site, and still flying in space, and still part of its original source all at the same time? Or does it mean something else?”

Martha shook her head unknowingly with a shrug. “That stuff’s over my head.”

“Seemed like they didn’t quite know either. They was doing experiments with it on people. Some nutter named Harold Saxon was. Time travel experiments and things. In one, they sent someone’s head to the future and back. This is some creepy X-Files level shit.”

“God… What about the Doctor? Um, John Noble?” Rose leaned forward, blunt nails digging into the lacquered wood of the table.

“Most of that stuff was encrypted, sorry. You’ll see though. Seemed like he was held against his will. It all went on during the war, too. He even built a secret time machine. Is that how you went back?”

But that would mean… “World War I? No, that’s not right. Can’t be.”

“See for yourself. But listen to this. It said the meteorite was found by an excavation team that included a woman they code named Bad Wolf, real name redacted. I dug into that a bit and found mentions of that John Noble and this woman who helped a village recover from dimensional sickness—that’s what they call the effects.”

Rose stared at the table, gooseflesh rising on her arms. Her thoughts were still stuck on the Doctor being imprisoned during the war, which would mean he  _doesn’t_  find a way back like his letter suggested. She felt hollow, and outside of herself. All the noise of the pub fading to some other plane of existence. She shouldn’t have asked Mickey to do this. It was now a—what did the Doctor call it? A fixed point in time. Now that she knew, she couldn’t just find a sweet spot in the past to sneak back and pass him a note. Like that time during Christmas holiday when he’d gone to Norway.

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Mickey asked. “Code name ‘Bad Wolf’? Sounds like something you’d do. Help a whole village from something you don’t even understand yourself, like that time you tried to organise a strike in the lunch room.”

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered now. She’d walked right back into the mire and this time it was even worse than before. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths; the room spun. Felt like the mire was pulling her under until she could no longer breathe. Just as she felt like she might black out, her mobile chimed, indicating she’d received an email. She glanced down, and saw that it was a reply from Susan. Gasping, her heart leapt to her throat.

“S-sorry. Hold on.”

She pressed the button to open up the email with violently trembling hands.

_Rose,_

_I’m sorry for my late reply. I’ve been away for medical treatments. Please stop by my home in the morning. 10am works best. My address is below. I have some very important things to tell you._

_Susan_

Rose looked up at Mickey and Martha, each of their faces pinched with worry. The waitress came by with a lager and placed it in front of her, along with an order of steaming chips and a plate of curry for Mickey. Rose ignored the food completely, returning her attention back to her mobile to type out a frenzied confirmation reply.

“What is it?” asked Mickey after a moment. “Who is it? You look like you seen a ghost.”

“H-hang on.” She finished the message and hit send.  She closed her eyes, her heart thundering. Maybe Susan would be able to tell her something, something that’ll put things back on the right track.

“Rose,” Martha said gently, reaching out to touch her arm. “You were having a panic attack. Listen to my voice. Take a deep breath into your belly with me, okay? Breathe in.” Martha drew in a lingering breath, and Rose did the same. “Now breathe out.”

Rose did as Martha said, and kept taking long, even breaths. She began to feel calmer, and licked her lips to prepare to explain. Her voice came out quiet and composed, and Mickey and Martha had to lean in to listen.

“All right, I’ll tell you. I’ve been tryin’ to get in touch with the woman who… Oh, bollocks. I’ll just out with it. Back near the end of term last year—well, two years for you, I reckon, in 2007 basically—anyway, I was at a science fair down at McCrimmon Hall. This woman was giving a lecture on the universe. She came to me after and gave me this pocket watch. She was all upset and begged me to ‘go back to him.’”

“That sounds like something I’d do straight away myself,” said Mickey in a mocking tone. “Nothing weird about that at all.”

“Shut up. I didn’t do it right off. I forgot about it actually, the watch, ‘till mum sent it to me in a care package. To make a long story short, I decided to look into it. Found out it belonged to a professor John Noble who taught at the uni back almost a century ago.”

“Oh, so that’s why,” said Martha.

“What?”

“They said you’d been looking up that name before you disappeared. Asked if we knew anything about it.”

“Oh… um. Yeah. And I went to McCrimmon where he taught back then. That’s when everything took off. The Doctor lived at the uni, in the attic. It’s where he studied the stars and invented the time machine. Turned out the pocket watch was a sort of key to it… I used it, and it worked. The machine. It sent me back in time.”

“Jackie’ll never believe this, and if she does, she’ll reach back in time and knock the shit outta this John Noble fella.”

“No she won’t. He was sweet. I think she’d like him,” Rose said, staring down at a bead of condensation that had slipped down the side of her glass.

Mickey laughed and pointed at her. “Oooh I get it. It’s  _you_ that liked him. You fancied ‘im didn’t ya? Why else would you just run off to another bleedin’ time.”

Martha elbowed Mickey. “She’s not finished.”

Rose made a face at Mickey. “So what? Point is, he really was in trouble. I was supposed to help him, but I got sent back here before I could.”

“So you’re trying to find a way back to your ye olde boyfriend. Why, Rose? ”

Rose took a sip of her lager. "

“You must really miss him,” said Martha, eyes full of sympathy.

Rose nodded, still unable to look at them. “Yeah, so… I need to figure out what happened with him. I found the woman who sent me back, and she just responded. She, uh… wants to see me. Please for the love of god don’t tell Pete about this. Or mum. Don’t tell  _anyone_ , all right?”

Mickey took a long pull of his lager and shook his head. “Not like I can say a word after what I did.”

“My lips are sealed,” said Martha. “You said that meteorite made you sick… what were the symptoms?”

“God, I dunno, it was like the flu but without congestion. It just made me really tired and achy. We didn’t know why, but I think they didn’t have the right tools to figure it out back then I reckon.”

“Strange. Did those files say why?” Martha asked to Mickey.

He shrugged and stuffed a chip in his mouth. “I dunno. I didn’t read all that shit.”

“That’s fascinating though. Where’s a microbiology scientist with an electron microscope in his basement when you need one,” Martha said.

“Oi, I’m just as good as a bloke like that.”

“Never said you weren’t.” Martha gave him a flirty smile.

Rose sighed. She finally reached for a chip, and let the conversation drift away from herself.  As the warm, salty starch melted on her tongue, she closed her eyes, transported back to the last time she shared chips with the Doctor.  But as she swallowed the chip, it didn’t sit well on her stomach. The anticipation to get home and read through the files had tied her insides into knots. She put a few quid down to pay for her practically untouched lager, and said her goodbyes.

It was half elven by the time Rose made it home. She entered the side door to find Pete in his office off the foyer reading over a file. She avoided looking his way, and hurried straight towards the stairs.

“Rose?” Pete called.

She paused with her foot on the first step.

“Come here a second, please.”

She took a few steadying breaths, though she couldn’t stop her heart from racing. She felt like there was a giant glowing arrow pointing straight at the memory stick in her pocket.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been looking over your course record. I think I can help reinstate you in the program if you’re interested. They’d just need to have a good reason for your sudden absence.”

“Thanks, but now’s not really a good time.”

“I can… Can also help you find someone to talk to about what happened. Your mum and I’ve been worried about you.” His voice was gentle, caring. She squeezed the bannister and sighed.

“M’just really tired.”

He began to say something else, but she hurried on upstairs to her room. She locked the door, and went straight for her laptop, inserting the memory stick in the USB port. But before she opened up the files, she stared at the icon, a knot forming in her chest. Nothing she could find would be worse than knowing he doesn’t make it back to her at all, but it was still possible that he’d just aged a bit, and he’d try again once he was set free. She exhaled, the knot uncurling somewhat, and opened the file.

Much of what Mickey had already mentioned was there as scans of original paperwork, all stamped confidential. One report elaborated on the possible origins of the meteorite, how to weaponized it, its medicinal properties, health and psychological effects from prolonged exposure, its potential to be utilized in space and time travel. She read over every line, even the bits that made little sense to her.

Another document focused on the testing as orchestrated by Harold Saxon, which is how the weaponization and psychological effects of the meteorite were studied. He had overseen animal and human experimentation with the meteorite material. People and rats alike were numbered instead of named. Specimen 0324. Specimen 0132. Saxon didn’t do this stuff himself, apparently. Just oversaw it all. Nausea set in after reading too many details of failed procedures, and she moved on to the next file.

It was the one she’d been looking for. The report on time travel and a compilation of the Doctor’s research. Her heart thrummed in her chest and she chewed on her nail as she leaned in, face illuminated by the glow of the monitor. Page after page had been redacted, with tiny details slipping through that she’d already heard from Mickey, until she reached a scan of what appeared to be a prisoner transfer form.

_Doctor John Noble surrendered himself in exchange for the release of Specimen 001. He is to remain at Torchwood Base until the completion of [REDACTED], after which he is to be closely monitored._

He hadn’t made it back to her because he’d turned himself in… Who or what was ‘Specimen 001’? Someone more important than her, a voice whispered in the back of her mind—that same voice that reminded her of Jimmy Stone and Mickey Smith. They’d both been neglectful of her feelings in different ways, and it had left a mark, even though it was nice to see that Mickey had outgrown it.

 _No_. It wasn’t like that. The Doctor didn’t think that way. She knew she was important to him, but the Doctor saw everyone as important, it was one of the many reasons why she loved him so much. She closed the files, unable to read them through a blur of tears, and shut the laptop. After dressing for bed in a loose t-shirt, she slid under the coverlet and stared up through the darkness. If the Doctor couldn’t make it to her, he had a valid reason. In that case, somehow, she’d have to be the one to find him.

 

The following morning, she woke to the sound of her mobile alarm. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but in a sense she was glad she’d been able to. After dressing, and stuffing her laptop, the Doctor’s journal, and the pocket watch into a backpack, she headed out to catch a bus to Susan’s place.

Rose arrived, her stomach swooping in anticipation. She knocked on the door and waited, biting her nails. After what felt like eons, she heard the chain on the door rattle, and the lock click.

And there she was. The woman from the auditorium, though a little more wan and frail.

“Please, come in,” Susan said, her eyes watery with tears. “Sorry, I’ve not been well.”

Rose entered, taking deep breaths to get a hold of her own emotions. After making Rose a cup of tea, and a bit of idle chit chat about the weather, Susan sat across from her at the small kitchen table.

“I…” she sighed heavily. “I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake.”

Rose shook her head slightly. “Hang on, I’m sure you haven’t. I went back like you asked, and everything was great ‘till I—”

“Oh, but I really have.”

Gooseflesh prickled Rose’s arms. She wasn’t sure if she could take any more bad news. “How d’you mean then?”

Susan pinched her brow. “I mean… I didn’t know you were from this time. Not at first. You see, he never said. He just begged me to give you that watch, and that you were torn away from him and he never saw you again.”

Dread crept like a vine up through her body, branching out to every limb. Susan met her eyes across the table, hesitant to continue.

“Go on,” Rose said, not looking away. “I can take it.”

“It was his dying wish. After he passed on, I opened the watch… it looked so strange. It had three faces, if I recall. I thought maybe the time was wrong, or it was one of those military clocks that keeps time in different countries. So I messed with it, trying to set it to the right time. I put it away for safekeeping, as I had no idea to what time in the future you’d been sent. I could only assume I’d find you eventually… When I began working for the university long ago, I gained access to his attic. That’s where I saw the drawing of you and knew who to look for.”

“M’kay, I still don’t see what you’ve done wrong. So you changed the time on the… watch…“

That was it. She’d changed the time. Now the dread was a choking weed, strangling her from the inside out. He’d set a different time, probably an attempt to bring her back to him, to change the course of his life so that he could see her again, and…

Susan squeezed her eyes shut and shielded her face with her hand, her guilt laid bare in the bow of her shoulders. After a moment, she looked up, and reached across to put her hand over Rose’s hand.

“I’m so sorry.”

Rose stared off, unfeeling, as the pieces fit together in her head. After a long silence, she turned her hand to squeeze Susan’s.

“Wh—what’re you saying is… He gave you the pocket watch set to some other time, and you messed with it, so I got sent back further.”

Susan pursed her lips and swallowed. “Yes.”

“So he’d originally been trying to get me to go back… when—do you remember the original setting?”

“I can’t. The last face was set to 1:06. That's all I can remember.”

Rose closed her eyes. That meant 16, so most likely it had been set to some time in 1916. It had to be not long after he’d written the letter—possibly the date when he’d finished repairs.

"He meant for you to give it to me  _now_ , so I could go back to him."

"Yes, but I gave it to you two years ago instead. I didn't know. I realised I’d made a grave mistake after everyone had been searching for you. I wondered why, if you were from the past? Why would so many people in this time know you? The police questioned me, they questioned Wilf… but we couldn’t tell them the truth. Timelines are fickle, fragile things."

Rose smiled through the sorrow. "It's okay, don’t you see? If you didn't do that, I'd have never met him in the first place. It had to happen that way." She laughed even as tears filled her eyes. "So yeah, you're basically my favorite person ever right now."

Susan smiled, her eyes just as watery. “I’ve felt so dreadful.”

“Don’t. You’re brilliant.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Despite that being a blessing in disguise, it still meant… Rose put her hand over her heart, like a tourniquet to keep the pain from flowing out and infecting the rest of her body. Her fear that he had lived the rest of his life without her had been confirmed over and over, and that truth was as suffocating as a rope around her throat.

“So he grew old and died without me…”

“I’m so sorry, Rose.” Susan sighed. “But I wouldn’t say he lived his life without you. I daresay you were on his mind until he drew his last breath.”

Rose’s face screwed up in her attempt not to burst out in tears.

Susan passed a box of tissues towards her.

Rose grabbed one to wipe her nose. She sniffed and drew in a hitching breath. “Um. He’s your grandfather—so he must’ve, y’know, gotten married, yeah?” Her hands shook, afraid of the answer. She grabbed her teacup to steady them. It would mean he’d lived a happy life, and she wanted that for him, more than anything. But that selfish part of her hated the very idea.

“No, dear. He had a daughter, Jenny, but he wasn’t my actual grandfather. I was a student at the university at the time, in the 60s, and he was like a mentor to me. Once I graduated, I became his assistant for a long time up until his death. I called him grandfather, because, well, he was like one to me.”

“Ah.”

It was like hearing about someone else’s life, because this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She was going to be with him forever. Rose ran her hands through her hair and held her head, brow furrowing. She couldn’t let this be the end of it all. There had to be a way.

“Did you know about the time machine in the attic then? When you were his assistant?”

“Yes.” Susan pushed her tea aside. “I helped him take care of it. He said it was important that it always stay in top condition. At the time I had no idea about the watch.”

“Did he tell you anything about when he was captured?”

Susan straightened, the empathy in her expression replaced with surprise. “How did you know about that?”

Rose tucked her chin against her shoulder and bit her lip. “Um… have you heard of Torchwood? Did he tell you about them?”

“Ah, yes. Torchwood. They’ve cleaned up their act quite a bit over the past couple of decades, but they used to be right appalling. Still a bit too clandestine for my tastes. But yes, he’d mentioned that he was made to work for them for a time. They’d kidnapped his daughter, so he promised to work with them if they promised to let her go and leave her alone.”

Rose gasped and covered her mouth.  _Specimen 001_. “Jenny! She’s the one!”

Susan tilted her head curiously. “You’re not her—no. Can’t be… timing is a bit off for that. Nevermind.”

“M’I what? Her mum? Oh, no, blimey.” She laughed sheepishly. “But I was there… we found her together, me and the Doctor. She was an orphan like him, and he…” Tears stung her eyes, and she shook her head. “Anyway, thanks for talking to me about all of this. I just don’t know what to do now. I’ve got to go back to him. There’s gotta be a way that won’t mess up all the timelines.”

Susan clasped her hands together on the table. “And if there’s not?”

Her mind absolutely refused to even produce a hypothetical response to that question. She inhaled through her nose, and looked Susan right in the eye.

“He gave you that watch. He wanted me to come back to him. He wouldn’t’ve done that if there weren’t a way.” Rose stood as she spoke, now resolute in her belief that she’d be with him again. “And I’m gonna do whatever it takes to find it.”

Rose headed straight for Torchwood headquarters after she left Susan’s home. Not once had she ever imagined that she’d  _want_ to take Pete up on that job offer, but now it was looking like the exact thing she was meant to do all along. She just needed a reason for it. A reason that mattered to  _her._

She strode into the lobby, and the receptionist caught her attention before she could pass through the security gate. After a brief exchange over the phone, the receptionist told her to wait, that Pete would be down in a moment to greet her.

As she waited, she took in her surroundings. The stark walls and minimalist furniture didn’t sit well with her anymore. She missed the dainty elegance of another time. A painting on the wall over a waiting area caught her eye, and an odd warmth spread through her chest. It was one of hers. Just an abstract smattering of colours that she meant to look like a stone ruin in the forest, set with deep contrasts from the sunlight through the trees.

“It’s one of my favourites,” said Pete, somewhere to the side.

Rose turned towards him. “Hi.”

“Hello, Rose. What did you need?”

She braced herself, steeled her nerves, and lifted her chin. “I’m ready to talk about what happened, but I think you might already know.”

Pete worked his jaw, eyes darting to the side. He gestured with a tilt of his head. “Right this way.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-graphic mention of slavery and the holocaust as historical events. Pregnancy eluded to via symptoms (nausea, appetite, smells). 
> 
> Thank you to lauraxxtennant and lostinfic for the beta.
> 
> As mentioned in the note for the previous chapter, I have removed the clues to Rose's pregnancy from this chapter so that she is no longer pregnant in this version.

Rose followed Pete through the hallways of Torchwood. Once again she felt outside of herself, drifting in stillness as her surroundings swept past of their own volition. Like staring out over the ocean, or watching the landscape unfold on a train to Inverness. Pete gestured as he gave her an impromptu tour, trying to break the tension by pointing out labs and other rooms. She couldn’t care less; not right now. Nervous energy thrummed under her skin and made her hands shake. He could be leading her to exactly what she needed, or he could be leading her to nothing at all. The disparity was a chasm, though she tried desperately to hold herself together as though it were a mere crack in pavement.

They reached a security clearance barricade, and they were both scanned before passing through. Pete grew quiet as he led her down the corridor and to a lift. He paused there, pensive. Rose waited for him to say something, but he just sighed and pressed the button. The lift doors slid opened, and they stepped inside. She watched him enter a passcode into the panel on the wall, and the lift descended swiftly, giving her a falling sensation in her belly.

“We’re going down to the archival floor. You’ll see some confidential things…” Pete began.

Rose shook her head and cut him off. “Don’t matter. I’m not here to see any of it. Won’t even notice.”

“Had that feeling.”

The lift opened, and they exited to a wide, dimly lit hallway with exposed vents and pipes. Their footsteps echoed off the steel and concrete, whilst mechanical groans and other unexplainable noises could be heard through the walls in the distance. Rose adjusted her backpack on her shoulder, and suppressed a shudder.

Hall after hall, and door after door went by. Some rooms were labeled by spans of years as far back as the sixteen hundreds. Others were unlabeled, and emitted weird tapping and whimpering noises. Around a corner, there was a door labeled _Objects of Unknown Origin_. Even that couldn’t draw her away from her purpose. Something to tell the Doctor about when they met again, she noted.

Deeper into the archives they ventured. Rose shivered from the cooler temperature, and stared up at a flickering fluorescent light as they finally came to a stop at a door labeled _1912-1945 Impact Phenomenon_. Her heart picked up speed. She held her breath. The door, heavy and thick, was flanked by two guards and reinforced with a complicated locking mechanism.

Pete swiped his access card through a reader, and the door responded with a series of clicks and pops before it gradually slid open.

“Right through here,” he said, gesturing for her to enter first.

Rose strode into the dark room, unafraid.  She could scarcely see anything, save for the eerie green glow from a glass case in the centre. As her eyes adjusted, she gasped. A few small pebbles of themeteorite floated lazily in the case, caught in some kind of current. The case sat upon a pedestal, and was surrounded by a guardrail.

“Oh, my god.”

“This is all that’s left of it.”

Rose wandered towards it and reached out across the guardrail to touch the glass case. The meteorite pebbles glimmered in the liquid suspension. “What happened to the rest of it?”

“Expended in one way or another. We suspect some of it was stolen decades ago, but we’ve not found any evidence that it’s been in use.”

Rose jerked her hand away from the glass case. “You know the glass isn’t strong enough to dampen the effects, yeah? We’re not bein’ exposed are we?”

“You know about that?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I was there, remember?”

“Right, right…” He shook his head. “The glass contains a tiny mesh of metals that reinforce it, and the suspension helps feed the meteorite so it doesn’t try to absorb energy from things around it to stabilize itself.”

“Otherwise it’d be unstable, because it exists in four dimensions.”

“Aha, you know about that, too.”

She nodded absently, not elaborating on how. Her mind wandered to the day she first encountered the meteorite, recalling its former massive bulk wedged in the centre of the impact crater. There had been so much wonder in the Doctor’s eyes. She clutched her shirt over her chest to temper a surge of heartache.

Pete went on, oblivious to her roving thoughts. “These bits were left over from those collected in Scotland. Some village up there. A fellow named Jack Harkness had hidden them when he got wind of what Torchwood was really up to.”

Rose rounded on him suddenly, fierce. “That’s it. What else do you know? Do I even have to tell you anything? Oh my god, have you known all this time that this would happen to me? You’ve been tryin’ to get me to work here, so is this why? So I can be part of some kinda long game experiment?”

She took a step back.

He held up his hands and shook his head. “No; nothing like that! Nothing at all like that…”

She squinted her eyes suspiciously at him, but said nothing.

“When you went missing, we did everything we could to find you. Your mum—she put flyers up, called the police. I used the resources we have here to see if I’d have better luck. The last person to report seeing you was a woman who works downstairs in McCrimmon Hall.  Said you asked for Professor Susan Foreman or information on her grandfather, John Noble, and that she directed you to the history wing. She couldn’t recall that you ever left, but she admitted she’d been distracted.”

Rose scoffed to hide her apprehension. “Your resources? What’s that mean… got a detective in your pocket?”

“He was one of ours, yes. We questioned everyone who was there that day, including a Wilfred Mott, who said he’d been in a meeting with a benefactor and didn’t see you. That alibi checked out. Caught up with Susan Foreman, who’d retired two weeks prior, and claimed she never heard from you—no one knew anything. We were grasping at straws at that point.

“So, we combed various databases, private and government, for information on John Noble, the man you’d been searching for. To our surprise, much of what we found was in our own archives, forgotten over time. You see, back then, Torchwood was far more clandestine and… well, nefarious. Like a completely different entity than it is now. It was tied somehow to the university in the eighteen hundreds, but around the turn of the century, that tether had become a bit estranged. They—”

“Enough of the history lesson, what’d you find on the Doctor?” Rose trembled, unable to look away from him now. “John Noble.”

He gave a perturbed sigh. “Actually, that’s where I found _you_. A woman who’d appeared from another time, proof that Professor Noble’s theories on time travel, also in our database, were correct. Another professor, Harold Saxon, had been collecting information on a young woman called Rose Tyler who’d worked for the university as an assistant to Professor Noble. Said she appeared around the same time that Professor Noble’d been bragging about his first time travel success, but she claimed to’ve responded to an advertisement, and needed the money to help pay for her sick mother’s medicine. But he had proven that you falsified your story to get a job at the university.”

Rose’s face blazed. She ran her tongue along her teeth and looked at the ceiling. “I knew it seemed too easy.”

Pete chuckled. “Might’ve gotten away with it if not for everything else. The mission to capture you was known as ‘Bad Wolf,’ but it became a code name of sorts for you. Torchwood had plans to bring you in for, ah… testing, but you vanished. Seems they harped on Professor Noble for a time, and he claimed you went back to be with your mother. Their follow-up notes indicated you were nowhere to be found, so… It was confirmation to me that you’d be back. I returned to Wilf and let him know that I knew you’d gone back in time using Noble’s machine, and requested that he keep a close watch over it for your return.”

“Did you ever tell mum?”

He shook his head, a guilty look in his eyes. “Told her we’d found some clues, but it was a sensitive situation and we had to take our time to ensure your safety.”

“Boy is she gonna be cross when she finds out you hid that from her.”

Pete rubbed his brow and swallowed.

Rose twisted her earring. “S-so is there, uhm… is there a way I can go back?”

His expression scrunched in disbelief. “What?”

“Obviously I wasn’t there to help him like I was supposed to be— or, could’ve been…anyway, If I were there, I could’ve done something. Put a stop to all those experiments, yeah? Or did you not see that in the archives? It was just horrible. D’you know Torchwood’s responsible for turning people and animals into dust, and, and even worse, god.” Her stomach squirmed just thinking about it all, and she put her hand over her mouth, looking away.

“Rose, yes, Torchwood went corrupt for a few decades, very dark… but that was all cleaned up. It’s all in the past now. What’s done is done, and it might even make things worse if you go back and try to put a stop to it. What if you go back and they turn _you_ into dust? Besides, don’t you think there are other, bigger events in history we could change if we had that power? The holocaust? Slave trade?”

He tried to use that gentle, fatherly tone with her, and it made her eyes sting. She shook her head, brows furrowed.

“But those things are everywhere. Billions of people know about them. Who knows about Torchwood’s work a hundred years ago? Nobody, because they covered their tracks, didn’t they? They was careful. Did this stuff whilst everyone was preoccupied with the wars. People probably even figured the Doctor had been conscripted and thought nothin’ of his disappearance. So, yeah. Seems like it’d be a hell of a lot easier to put a stop to it than anything you find in the history books. They turn out to be wrong half the time anyway.”

Pete scrubbed his hand down his face. “Your mother said you had a reckless streak.” He sighed. “What about the people who were vanished? If you put a stop to it, they’ll be there when they weren’t before. Family histories are forever changed, Rose. You can’t bring people back from the dead.”

She glared at him, grinding her teeth. “You know what? The world will adjust. The Doctor wanted me to go back to him, and I’m going. You’re either gonna help me or you’ll be in my way, so pick one.”

His features twisted, and accusation flashed in his eyes. “You’d just go back to another time like that? No concern for your mother or your friends here? First time was one thing, but this time? It sounds a bit mad, don’t you think? A bit selfish?”

Rose squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling down her cheeks. After a moment to gain her composure, glowered at him. She wanted to scream till her voice was raw. Of course she would miss her mum. Of course she _had_ missed her! How could he think such a thing? But this was about something she wanted more than anything, and not what other people wanted for her. She tucked away the scream for another time. She’d need all of the energy she could muster now.

“Then I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her everything and I’ll let her know what I’m gonna do myself. Maybe… maybe he’ll want to come here. If he feels the way about me as I feel about him, maybe he—” But that wasn’t fair. He had Donna, and Jenny. There was so much good he could do if he hadn’t been captured and manipulated. He could make the whole world a better place…

Pete’s eyes softened. “You’re in love with him.”

It felt like her heart was being squeezed in her chest, harder and harder. Rose nodded, closing her eyes again, letting tears fall. She felt silly. Childish. But at once strong for the first time in her life.

“I’m so sorry, Rose.” Pete paused, letting silence settle between them for moment before speaking again.

“I can understand a little, though. I’d want to do the same to be with your mother if we were trapped in different worlds.”

She looked up at him, respecting him a lot more for admitting such a thing when he could’ve kept right on reproaching her.

“So, what’s your plan?” he asked, not mocking.

Rose wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Huh?”

“Go on, let’s hear it. You’re so determined to go back; you must have a plan.”

She tugged on a strand of her hair, looped it behind her ears. “There’s an, um… his time machine, the Doctor’s. It’s still at the uni, and works just fine. I’ve got to figure out the window, but that’s a start.”

“The window?”

“Yeah, he left me a letter saying he was almost finished rebuilding it, and that was sometime in 1916. He turned himself in to release Jenny not long after that… So there had to be a safe spot for me to travel back between when he finished building it, and when he turned himself in. Or I don’t care. I’ll go back after that point and help rescue him.”

Pete shook his head gravely. “I’m afraid the machine was here during that time, according to the records. He turned himself in along with the machine for Jenny’s release. Even if you make it through before that happens, that’s a dangerously narrow window of time. We’re talking days.”

Rose groaned in exasperation. The very piece of information she needed—the date the Doctor had initially set on that pocket watch when he gave it to Susan—was forever lost.

“Rose… they never really could get it right. Precision time travel. I looked through _everything_ and I couldn’t figure out what they’d been missing back then. The Doctor, as you’re calling him, claimed to always be just on the brink, but he said he never figured it out himself. He’s the one who discovered that the meteorite can play a role in guiding it, but not as precisely as desired.”

“Then how comes I went back to the exact time that…” she hesitated. “Anyway, he was lying. He wouldn’t’ve wanted them to know everything.”

Pete studied her, sobering. “Apparently so.”

“If he was here for a few years, they had ‘im working on projects, yeah? Like the meteorites and time travel stuff. He was forced to do work for them, so... Did he have his own lab? His own equipment?”

“He did at the time, but those areas have all been repurposed and the equipment broken down or upgraded except for a few things. If you want to look yourself, you’re welcome to. I’ll take you to see the actual documents, but I didn’t really know what to look for. I only learnt of all this stuff in the year you were missing, and it seems I’ve only skimmed the surface of my own bleedin’ company’s past.”

“I’ll figure it out, so take me to where I can look.”

“Right now?” He looked at his watch.

“Yes.”

Pete shook his head, and sighed. “This way.”

He walked over to a door within the same room, and swiped his badge through the reader. They entered, and he switched on the lights. The room held filing cabinets and shelves filled with labeled boxes. A line of tables and chairs cut through the middle, illuminated by low-hanging lights. Pete gestured for her to sit down, and once she had, he went off into the shelves for a few minutes. She heard him rummaging, sifting through boxes, and when he returned, he placed a box before.

She looked up. “That it?”

“There are more. Row F. Have a start with this one. You hungry?”

“No. Tea?”

“Believe it or not, there’s a canteen down the hall. I’ll be right back.”

“Lovely.”

Pete left, and she began rifling through the box straight away. She pulled out a folder, and flipped it open. Inside were records of the Doctor from his childhood at the orphanage, and others from the university. She thumbed through other folders in the box, each one revealing more and more about the Doctor’s life. The box also contained records of various notorieties and awards, essays he’d written, and research reports. This must be why so little was known about him in her time.

A large, thick envelope stuck up from the back of the box, catching her eye. Rose grasped it, feeling the edges of multiple items inside, likely photos. Her hand trembled as she pinched the brass brad to open it. Out spilled several images, along with the negatives, of the Doctor at various points in his adult life.

Rose picked up a small photo of the Doctor wearing his academic robes, in mid lecture during one of his classes. She clutched her chest and bit her lip so hard that she winced. It might’ve only been a few weeks since she had seen him last, but every bit of her keenly felt the century between them. She let out a shaky sigh, and sifted to another photo of him in a laboratory, demonstrating some sort of procedure to a couple of Torchwood scientists.

In the background, she noticed his beloved blue wardrobe had been reinforced with chains and a bulky lock. A large blackboard hung on the wall next to it. It was filled with equations that surrounded a drawing of some sort of oddly familiar-looking platform. A bit like… like the platform in the tunnel! But it’d been dark, so she could be mistaken. Either way, that sealed it.  She had to get to that room in the tunnel. Maybe he had figured out a way to build it there after all.  

She studied the photo more closely. Certain numbers in the equations surrounding the schematic were underlined, which she hadn’t remembered from the Doctor’s other equations. Probably meant nothing at all. She slouched in the chair, her brain beginning to fog over. Time travel made things so much more confusing. Before she could resume studying the photo, she heard Pete’s footsteps in the hall. Quickly, she slid the photo into her backpack, and began packing away the other papers back into the box.

“Sorry it took a bit. Had to wait for the kettle,” Pete said, offering the steaming mug towards her.

“Ta, but, um… I gotta go.” She slung the backpack over her shoulder.

His eyebrows raised. “Oh…kay.”

“Sorry. There’s someone I gotta meet.” _Or a room in a tunnel, more like, before the sodding library closed again._ She bolted for the door.

“Wait! I’ll need to escort you out. Can’t just go running off—”

It’s not that she wanted to ignore him, but she had to get a move on. Picking up her steps, she raced along the corridors. The nearest lift was guarded, but they stepped aside and opened it for her.

“Um, thanks.” She ducked inside.

“We have orders to send you straight to the lobby,” said one guard, as he reached in and entered a code on the keypad.

“Perfect,” Rose said with a large, forced grin.

As the doors closed, she overheard the guard mention into his com, “ _She_ _’s in, sir._ ”

Her stomach flipped as the lift lurched into motion. The numbers changed swiftly as she ascended, and then the lift came to a stop. The doors opened, and another guard was waiting for her.

“This way, miss,” she said.

“I know the way.” She didn’t, but it didn’t matter. Rose dashed past her and found her way to the lobby and out the doors. Right. The old G would be too far on foot, so she’d have to take a bus.

Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest as she sat amongst the other commuters who were oblivious to her urgency. She tapped her foot, plaited and unplaited a few strands of her hair, chewed on her nails. God, would this bus just bloody _move_?

When she arrived at the Gallifrey Library at last, she entered using her old student identification card, and slipped through the stacks towards the stairwell, dodging a helpful librarian on the way with a fleeting smile of apology. She knew exactly where she was headed.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and whirled around, getting her bearings. The tunnel was tucked away in one of the two storage rooms. Aha, the one on the right. Mercifully, it was unlocked. She pressed open the door and entered, the sconces from the hall cutting a warped square of light into the dark room before her. What had once housed old books, now stored outdated equipment, microfiche, and cassette tapes, all crammed in boxes and bins on metal shelves. She rushed to the back of the room and felt along the wall to discover that the door was no longer there. Concrete blocks had been stacked, cemented, and painted over in its place.

“Can’t be right…” she whispered to herself, running her hand along the sleek, painted surface.

She sighed and made her way back upstairs to seek out the maps collection. After searching for an hour, she found an older map of the area illustrating various hidden tunnels that’d been used as bunkers during the war, including the very tunnel she needed to access. If it had been used as a bunker, then the Torchwood equipment couldn’t’ve been there during that time. Unless they faked it on the map. Anything was possible, and nothing made a bit of sense. She sighed and sat back in her chair, racking her brain for what to do next.

Her stomach growled loudly, and she realized she’d barely eaten all day. No wonder she felt so weak she might collapse if she took another step. She decided to take the bus home and continue her investigation there after eating supper.

///

Rose retreated to her room after eating more food than she could ever remember eating in her life. She sat at her desk, and removed the important items from within: the photo of the Doctor from Torchwood, the journal, and the pocket watch.  She found a scrap sheet of paper and a pen and stared at the blank page.

She started with the photo, and began writing down the underlined numbers. Maybe it was a cipher of sorts. Maybe he’d been trying to relay a message to her from the past. But - but that was daft, she’d seen far too much telly. There could be any number of reasons why he’d underline the numbers. But she had to at least try, seeing as how there wasn’t anything to lose at this point.

She first decoded the numbers into letters, but that resulted in nonsense. Not having a clue of any other ciphers, she turned to an internet search for ideas. She tried each one with no luck, until she found a book cipher, where the numbers could be referring to pages or words in a book. The Doctor’s field journal! Now that she looked at it, each equation did have two numbers underlined. She twisted her earring as she searched for the first number as a page, and the second number as a word on the page. Word after word revealed itself, and when she completed the cipher, she stared at it in awe.

_build computation device as conduit for data and tracking_

_use meteorite as power source in device and in pylons for triangulation_

_focus on time destination in detail with your mind_

_meteorites will activate and a time vortex will open_

_initialize transfer with computation device_

_vortex is only stable for fifteen seconds_

_I believe in you_

Rose cheered aloud, thrusting her arms into the air. “Oh, my God!” She laughed and covered her face with her hands as she slouched back in the chair. The pocket watch gleamed in the glow of the monitor, and she picked it up.

“I dunno whether to love you or hate you.” She kissed it regardless, and grabbed the photo and the sheet of paper where she’d written the Doctor’s message.

She went downstairs to make a cup of tea as she mulled over the phalanx of thoughts for her plan. Ideas came together, built on each other like an intricate web, and excitement spun in her belly. She finished preparing her mug, and shuffled over to the doorway of Pete’s office.

He looked up from his computer. “All right, Rose? You look… chuffed.”

“Yeah, um…hey, isn’t that a good thing?”

Pete shrugged. “It’s different.”

“Okay, so maybe I am.” She smiled a little. “I think I’ve got it all sorted now. My plan. Wanna hear it?”

He gestured to the chair nearby. “Of course.”

Rose sat down and took a long sip of her tea, the warmth spreading through her limbs and steadying herself for what she was about to say.

“Torchwood had the Doctor’s time machine for a while.”

“Yes.”

“That means I can’t use it, so whatever. I’ll have to build another one then, yeah? I’ll look through all of what’s left in Torchwood’s storage for the parts. I know sort of what I’m looking for, but I’ll also need a computer and other equipment. We can set it up in another location, somewhere it could stay hidden no matter the time period just in case, and I know just the place. You’ve got all of the Doctor’s time travel research, so pull that together. I’ll need an engineer or a scientist, whatever sort of person would be able to help me with setting it all up and making it work. I’ll also need Mickey. He’ll help with the computer.”

Pete’s expression remained unreadable once she’d finished. It made her want to fidget, as she was prone to do when things got tense, but she held her hands steady on the mug.

“And then what?” he asked evenly.

“Um. The Doctor hid a message for me. It was there all along on his blackboard whilst he was a prisoner here, but nobody noticed.” She passed the paper containing the message over to him, along with the photo. “It’s the answer to precision time travel.”

Pete read it, and his eyebrows slowly raised. “Incredible…”

“When I go back, I’ll find ‘im before Torchwood even lays a hand on Jenny. I’ll help them find somewhere to hide, and do whatever else I need to do to put a stop to all of it.”

“And then what? What if you’re successful? What if you’re not? How will we know for sure… what if we need to come after you?”

“Don’t. Just let whatever happens happen, ‘kay?” she drew in a deep breath and sighed, stirring her fringe. “This is what I want.”

His eyes scanned her over, and his brows met in concern. “You look exhausted, Rose. I’m not sure if you’re thinking clearly.”

“M’thinkin’ more clearly than I have in a long time, but, um, yeah. I could use a good night’s rest before I get started.”

Pete huffed incredulously and shook his head. “You’re dead serious about this.”

“I am.”

His expression turned pensive as he stared at the photo. “What if it’s a trick? What if this is old Torchwood’s way of getting you back?”

Her heart sank at his words, and she fought to keep it afloat. “Can’t be. I decoded it using his field journal.”

“Rose, they had him. They had his time machine. They could’ve easily had the journal.”

She shook her head, not wanting it to be true. “He said he believes in me. That’s him. They wouldn’t—”

“They could have forced him to do it. Tortured him. They threatened him routinely with harming his loved ones if he didn’t comply.”

She looked away, fighting tears. “No. That’s not what happened. It’s just not.” She turned a cool, watery glare on him. “Makes no sense anyway. Why would they torment him to get the answer if they already had it? He’s counting on me. I’ve gotta take my chances no matter what. Can’t just leave him to deal with everything alone.”

“He’s already dealt with it alone. It has already happened. Do you see my difficulty with this?”

“But he doesn’t have to this time ‘round.”

Pete was quiet for a long time, and the ticking of the clock on the wall couldn’t have felt more apropos. Rose gritted her teeth and nearly burst from anticipation.

“All right, I’ll help you, but aside from telling your mother, there’s one big condition.”

Her breath hitched and she squeezed the mug in her hands. He hesitated.

Rose kept her gaze on him, unflinching. “Well, go on.”

“I have to hire you. You have to work here to gain the kind of clearance you need for such a project, but I’ll give you leeway. You’ll be monitored for safety, no getting around it, you hear?”

She sighed as a balloon of joy and relief arose in her chest. “That all? When can I come in for an interview?”

Pete’s face broke out into a smile. “I think we’ve had rather a remarkable one just now, don’t you agree?”

“But ‘m not technically qualified. Haven’t got a fancy degree.”

“Book smarts aren’t everything, and you were Noble’s assistant for a time. That should qualify for something, given all the things I read about him in our archives.”

Rose smiled, biting her lip. “Yeah. He’s brilliant.”

Pete shook his head and chuckled. “Maybe so. But we all just want you to be happy. I know your mum’ll agree when she gets over the initial shock.”

Rose yawned. As the tension and anxiety drifted away, a deep fatigue set in.

“Go get some sleep.”

“Thank you.” She smiled as she stood. “Thanks for helping me, and for, you know… making mum happy. Don’t think I ever told you.”

He returned her smile in kind. “I’ll take you into work in the morning.”

“I’ll talk to mum first thing.”

Rose left his office and set the half-full mug of tea on the counter on her way to the stairs. Though she dreaded the conversation with her mother, it was best that she know. She could just hear her now.

_You only knew him for a few months, sweetheart. You can_ _’t go and leave me again. What if you never come back? My only daughter._

She rehearsed what she’d say, and how she’d respond to every possible reaction, as she drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, Rose awoke in a frustrating fog of impatience and apprehension. The smell of toast and eggs cooking downstairs inspired her to get out of bed, however. After a shower, she headed down and made a cuppa. Her mum kissed her cheek and sat at the table. Now or never.

Rose laid her confession bare. Everything about her journey back in time, and her experiences with the Doctor.

“No. You’re havin’ me on,” said her mother over her half-eaten plate of food. “You went back in time? That’s where you went off to for a whole bloody year?”

Rose nodded as she grabbed a piece of toast. “Ask Pete. He knows.”

“Oh I’ll ask ‘im all right. _Time travel._ How’s that possible? Time travel ain’t possible!”

“It is, I’m tellin’ you! You know Torchwood’s a bit off, yeah? You said so yourself.”

Jackie shook her head and sighed “You fell in love with a bloke in 1912, and now you want to go back? Barking, Rose. Absolutely barking.”

“Mum, there’s more to it than that, like I said. He’s in danger. Lots of people are, and I’ve gotta… I’m meant to stop it.” Rose tore her last bite of toast in half and tossed it on her plate.

“But, Rose, you can’t stop somethin’ that’s already happened. You just can’t. What if that time machine takes you back too far and you end up in Rome?” Jackie rolled her eyes and pressed her hand against her forehead. “Oh, my god, listen to me! Sound like I’m in some bleedin’ science fiction programme. I don’t like it, sweetheart. I’ll tell Pete to put a stop to this.”

“No, just listen to me! I made up my mind a long time ago. I’ve got a plan, and it’s good.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you know I love you, right? But this ain’t normal.”

Rose didn’t have the energy to explain anymore. She pushed her plate aside with a heavy sigh. “I love you too, mum…”

Jackie stood, and walked around the table to give Rose a hug. Rose returned the hug, and squeezed her eyes shut, stamping away lingering doubts and fears.

“I know I can’t stop you, Rose.”

“I’ll be okay, mum. I’ll be happy.”

“That’s all I want for you, but—” Jackie put her hands on Rose’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You make it sound like you’re not comin’ back.”

Rose bit her lip as it began to wobble, and she looked askance towards the window as tears built up in her eyes again. “I don’t know for sure.”

“Just do one thing for me, sweetheart. If all this is true, just do one thing for your mum.”

She looked into her mother’s eyes, blinking away tears.

“Find some way to talk to me again. I can’t live the rest of my life not knowin’.”

“I promise.”

Jackie pulled Rose in for another embrace, and Rose’s heart broke at the sound of her mother’s sniffles.

///

A fortnight passed before the meteorite platform was complete. Rose had overseen the entire process, and though there were challenges that made her long for the Doctor’s guidance all the more, she never let it stop her. Now the day had finally come that she would put it to use.

Rose stepped gingerly into the tunnel, holding up the hem of her thin, double-layered frock. Her stomach twisted into knots and her heart thrashed. She braced herself against the earthen wall, steeling her nerves.

“Something wrong?” asked Mickey, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“What d’you think?”

“Gettin’ close. You look ridiculous, but I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah.” She grinned, preening her graceful up-do, and making sure all of the pins were in place. “Thanks for all of your help.”

He shrugged. “All in a day’s work.”

They moved into the tunnel room, and Rose stared at the makeshift time machine in wonder. Lights blinked on the terminal, and the faint hum of the equipment filled the room. She caught her reflection in one of the metal pylons. The first time she’d gone back, the Doctor had commented on how her frock was off by a decade. This time she was sure to do her research. She chose an elegant, yet simple cream-and-gold day dress without the elaborate jewelry as was customary during the wars. She hoped to avoid drawing attention to herself, especially if Torchwood would be mucking about. As a final touch, she placed a brimmed hat upon her head that she’d use to conceal her face in shadow.

“We’re ready,” said an engineer.

Rose blinked out of her trance, and bit her lip. She stepped up onto the platform, let her hand trail along the pylon closest to her.

Mickey nodded, and typed something into the computer. “Standing by.”

A technician handed Rose a lantern and a 1916-era purse. “Here are the things you said you’d need on the other side.”

Rose set the lantern down by her feet, and opened the flap of the purse. Inside she found the illusion generator, instructions for activating the platform, matches to light the lantern, a key to the tunnel room door, and the pocket watch. She nodded and closed it up, then picked up the lantern.

“Because of the meteorites, the entire platform is going to go with you. We’ll stand back so we’ll be unaffected, but we’ll be able to see if anything’s going wrong once you’re on the other side,” said Pete. “But only for fifteen seconds. After that, you’re on your own.”

Rose nodded, butterflies flitting around in her stomach. “M’ready.”

“Powering on,” said a technician by the platform.

As the meteorites were activated, Rose felt a surge of dizziness. She closed her eyes and concentrated with all of her might. An eerie sensation overcame her just as it had the first time she’d been in the tunnel with the Doctor. That feeling as though ghosts of other eras drifted around her. Like time was a spiral path, circling over itself into the future and the past. The Doctor had said that he often felt the same. She clenched her fingers around the lantern’s handle, conjuring the memory of holding the Doctor’s hand. If she closed her eyes tightly enough, she could feel his palm pressed against hers, the heat and strength of it, as they ran back through the tunnel towards the theatre on their first visit here.

A sudden swoop in her stomach startled her. She opened her eyes to find herself alone in the room, save for the flickering lights of the pylons. Lantern in hand, she stepped down from the platform before finding the match to light it. As soon as the illusion device was in place and activated, she exited the room and locked the metal door behind her. She exhaled to quell her nerves, and held the lantern up to light her path towards the library exit.

Her heart palpitated. Her breath came in quick gasps. She held her skirt up to allow for quicker steps. Soon enough, the lantern illuminated a door, and she put her hand on the knob. After drawing in a deep breath, she opened the door to find herself in a dark storage room filled with old, musty books. She stepped out into the hall and ascended the stairs to the ground floor, where she found the current newspapers sitting out on a table. She grabbed one.

_21 st December, 1912_

Rose dropped the newspaper. She’d gone back in time! But it wasn’t right. Too early. Pacing, she tried to think of how she could’ve been sent to this point. The last thing she’d been thinking about whilst standing on the platform was how she’d been holding the Doctor’s hand. The Doctor had used some kind of hypnosis to cement her in the past, so of course the platform must work in the same way. That’s what he’d meant in his message. The power of thought… focusing on the destination.

She rushed back downstairs, and just as she entered the tunnel she saw a blue light flicker across the dirt ceiling and disappear. She heard the Doctor whisper, and the sound of footsteps racing in the opposite direction.

Rose fell to her knees. She wanted to cry out to him. Stopping herself from doing so was like stopping the earth from spinning. But she held fast, fingers digging into the earthen ground. After she heard the sounds of her past self and the Doctor scrambling up into the theatre, she pulled herself up to her feet.

Breathing heavy, she made her way back to the tunnel room. She activated the terminal using the process she’d remembered from the test runs, and climbed back onto the platform. She closed her eyes. This time she focused with all of her might on the year 1916, and visualized the Doctor in his attic working on the time machine.

She thought of as many variables as possible to make it even more specific. The time machine couldn’t be ready yet. He has to be safe. Jenny couldn’t have been captured yet. Her mind wandered to a vision of his bench outside in the alley between buildings. She cursed under her breath and tried to keep her mind focused, but it began to scatter. A piano played in her head, echoing and dreamlike. She recognized it as the one that had been playing when she first went through to the past. Longing filled her chest, followed by deep sorrow. She tried to bring her mind back to the details as to not get lost in this strange tide of emotion.

Her body began to ache, and she shivered as she had when she’d suffered from prolonged meteorite exposure. There was a pluck in her mind, like a cord being tugged and let go, and her stomach lurched as though she’d just fallen off of a cliff.

///

The Doctor climbed out from under the time machine console and stretched his legs. The song he’d been listening to faded off to silence, filling the room with a repetitive, static skip. He leaned his back against the wardrobe door after closing it, and stared up at the wooden beams overhead.

He didn’t want to move. His arms and legs—his entire body felt limp and heavy. Could practically feel gravity pushing him down, daring him to even try pulling himself up. Instead he stared around the cluttered, unkempt attic in a dull stupor.

After a time, he reached over to the needle of the gramophone and started the song over. He sighed as the melody played out, each note of the piano plucking out memories from his mind. He’d listened to it on the day he first met her, and so he’d played it at least once every day since she was taken away.

Needing something to do as to not let himself wither to a pile of bones on the floor, he moved to his desk to write a letter. A very special letter that he hoped would make it into the future before him. The words flowed from his pen, and he stared at the blank space where he was to write his name.

 _I miss you. I need you._ _You_ _’re everywhere and yet I can_ _’t touch you._ He wanted to write it all. Bare his heart to her in case—but he couldn’t. It would mean accepting defeat. It would mean admitting that he’d never see her again, because these were words he _had_ to say to her face. Whisper in her ears, breathe against her neck as her hair fell against his cheek. However, wherever. He couldn’t just write them down. She needed to hear the sincerity in his voice, and witness the ardour in his eyes.

Time had not dulled anything at all, unlike Donna had promised in her innumerable attempts to comfort him. But he knew it was because he had not let it. Why ever would he? He could go on about his days giving lectures, or even enjoy himself on explorations and adventures with Donna or Jenny. But he’d never be able to give himself over completely to anything else as long as Rose was a century away from him.

He finished, writing the words, ‘ _yours always, the Doctor,_ _’_ and folded up the paper. He inserted it into the field journal, and placed it back under the hidden compartment in the actual wardrobe that housed his actual clothing.

He then headed downstairs, and strolled through the building towards the exit to meet Donna and Jenny for tea.

He spied them sitting on the bench outside between the buildings where he liked to read. Jenny had her head bowed over with her face in her hands whilst a bare-footed Donna rubbed her back soothingly. The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he drew near.

“What’s happened?” he asked. “Where are your shoes?’

“Someone grabbed Jenny on the way, but I beat ‘em off with my shoe.”

Jenny snorted and looked up at her with a grin. He expected to see tears in her eyes, but she just seemed to be in the process of calming her nerves.

The Doctor wasn’t relieved, however. “Someone grabbed her? How d’you mean?

“After I picked her up from tutoring, I thought someone was following us. Just had this feeling, you know? We tried to shake them off, but they turned the tables on us. We were being corralled like cattle. We passed an alley, and that’s when the man reached out and grabbed Jenny by the elbow. He pulled her in and I ran after, tossed my shoe at his back. He stumbled and hit his head on a fire escape.”

“That’s when I got free,” Jenny said. She looked winded, cheeks red and hair sweaty from their sprint, but overall unharmed and unfrightened. Of course; she was a brave young lady.

“Yeah. Tried to throw my other shoe, but I missed. Lucky first shot I reckon. But we ran back out to the road and found a police officer to escort us.”

“This is getting dire.” The Doctor rubbed the corner of his eye.

“You’re tellin’ me. Third time this week something weird has happened. What’s goin’ on? Should I have Reinette pick her up by coach next time for lessons?”

The Doctor raked his hands through his hair, tugging it in all directions as he paced. “Torchwood. It has to be. They’re resorting to tricks like this since they can’t get ahold of me legitimately. Two years and they still think I’ve got Rose hidden away somewhere.” He sighed and looked up at the sky. “If only I had.”

Donna tilted her head and her eyebrows met in pity.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He scowled at her.

“What’re we gonna do then, Romeo?”

“Oh, stop it.” He made a face the moniker. “I dunno. Jack can only hold them off so long before they realise he’s helping us.”

“They must somehow know you’re close, dad,” said Jenny.

The Doctor nodded. “Wouldn’t be surprised if Saxon has a spy amongst the faculty. Or the students for that matter. Gah! If only Rose _were_ here… she’d know what to do.”

“Oh for…” Donna blinked, mid eye-roll, and focused on something over his shoulder. Her eyes bulged in surprise, and then softened. A weird, wistful sort of smile crossed her face. “Blimey. How’s that for wish power.”

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. “What?”

She canted her head, indicating for him to look at whatever was behind him.

Jenny gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

The Doctor flicked his gaze to Jenny, and then slowly turned around, bemused. What he saw couldn’t be real. His eyes widened, his mouth went slack with awe. His breathing stopped all together.

She stood there at the other end of the building, swathed in a ray of sunlight. Golden and glowing. Her smile brought the blood to life in his veins. He’d imagined this moment more times than he’d want to admit, but the reality of it was like a lightning strike jolting through his entire existence. Like he was made for this moment.

And so he took off. Ran to her with long bursting strides. His chest heaved and his legs pumped, desperate to close the distance.  She ran to him in kind, her hat blowing off behind her. The double-layered skirt made it a bit difficult for her to hit a top speed, but it was no matter. He reached for her the moment she was in range, and she crashed into him.

He lifted her off the ground as their arms wound around one another, eyes closed in absolute bliss. He felt her nuzzling his neck, and opened his eyes at the sensation, smiling so wide his face hurt.

“It’s really you.” Her lips moved, and her breath tickled his skin.

He shivered pleasantly, and then echoed, “It’s really me. Oh, Rose…” he whispered, unable to believe it. He set her down and reached for her face, fingertips touching her delicately, fearing she might disappear again at any moment. Her skin was so soft, just as he remembered. He traced the line of her jaw and the shell of her ear. Loose strands of her hair tickled his knuckles, and he sighed like nothing could ever feel better.

She smiled up to him, eyes glossy with tears. “Careful now, wouldn’t want to scandalise everyone around us.”

The Doctor laughed, his own eyes stinging. “I don’t bloody care!”

Rose grinned, grabbing him by the lapels. “Then kiss me.”

It wasn’t something he could refuse, kissing her, regardless of their circumstances. He’d been wrong before. He was made for _this_ moment. He leaned as she lifted up to her toes, and their lips met at once. She pulled him closer, arms around his shoulders. One of her hands found the back of his neck, and her fingertips brushed through the hair at the back of his head. He deepened the kiss, angling his face so he could capture her bottom lip between his. The taste and scent of her all around gave him a jolt of pleasure, awakening sensations in his body that he hadn’t indulged in a long time.

She made a sound in the back of her throat, a whimper so divine he wanted to guide her to the closest wall, if she’d allow him to. But not yet; not here.

Their lips parted, and the Doctor rested his forehead to Rose’s, his eyes still closed as he steadied his breaths. He didn’t want to stop. Every bit of him cried out for her touch. He felt her fingers digging into his back, and knew she must feel the same.

Rose kissed his cheek, and stepped back, her hands sliding down his arms and coming to rest in his hands. “I missed you.” Her eyes danced over his features, searched his eyes.

He squeezed her hands, twining their fingers together. “How did you…”

She released one of his hands to stroke his cheek, her thumb no doubt feeling the lines that spread from the corners of his eyes. He suddenly felt terribly self-conscious. He’d aged three years, yet she appeared just as he remembered her.

“You still feel—” she began, her voice rising in question, but she didn’t finish.

His brows met, and he kissed her temple. “More than ever.”

“Me too.”

His heart multiplied into two, and he pulled her in for another embrace.

Donna grabbed the Doctor by his arm, stopping him. “Don’t mean to end such a touching moment, but we’ve got trouble.”

_To be continued_ _…_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Lostinfic and Lauraxxtennant for the beta!  
> I posted this yesterday and realized I needed to fix a section, and now the chapter is so long that I decided to split it. I will have the second part posted tomorrow!

The Doctor would rather eat a pear salad whilst diving into a river filled with giant leeches than look away from Rose. But as her expression began to echo Donna’s alarming words, his curiosity got the better of him. He turned to spot five men in dark suits and long coats heading into McCrimmon Hall, Jack Harkness amongst them. It didn’t appear that they’d been spotted, but regardless, Donna grabbed Jenny and pulled her along deeper between the buildings. The Doctor and Rose followed.

“They’re getting bloody persistent,” Donna whispered.

Rose’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Jack was with them?”

“He’s not part of this. He’s on our side on the inside.” The Doctor rubbed his chin. “Oh, I rather like that. ‘ _On our side on the inside_.’ Yep.” He startled, like he’d been ruminating in an entirely different area of his brain and had returned to the reality at hand. He ran a hand through his hair and sniffed, affecting an aura of leadership.

“Donna, take Jenny to your place, and—”

Rose put her hand up. “Hang on, surely they'll think to look for them there?”

Donna wiggled her fingers. “Oh, that’s taken care of. My name isn’t on the record as a tenant, thanks to a sneaky bit of paperwork doctoring at my new job.”

“Aha! Brilliant!” The Doctor grinned.

“It’s not fool proof, but it’ll make it all the more difficult to find us. Done it when that odd fellow sat down with me at the chippy and started asking too many questions.”

The Doctor frowned, and then turned to Rose. “Well then, back to the matter at hand. Rose, you should…ah—”

She wouldn’t be safe if she stayed with him. Not to mention, her return should remain a secret for as long as possible. Torchwood couldn’t get their hands on her, and that meant he’d have to endure her leaving his side. He ran his tongue across his teeth, hating what he was about to say.

“—go with them, I suppose…”

“Ha! I don’t think so,” said Rose. “’M stayin’ right here with you.”

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest. Nothing on this earth would destroy him faster than losing her again. But he swallowed the words. She’d risked everything to return to him somehow. She was so strong, and so brave. He wouldn’t be responsible for taking that away from her.

“There’s no stopping you,” he said gently.

Rose shook her head. “Nope.”

Nodding once, he turned his attention to Jenny as he lowered to her eye-level.

“Be careful, you hear?”

Jenny nodded, her ponytail swishing. She hugged him, and then smiled up at Rose over his shoulder. “Keep an eye on him.”

“You got it,” Rose said.

He chuckled, and watched for a moment as Donna began to guide his daughter away. Rose’s thumb brushed over his wrist to comfort him. For once it wasn’t a figment of his imagination, that infinitesimal gesture which had the power to help him face threats bigger than the universe itself. He looked down at Rose as his heart tightened in his chest.

A soft smile touched her lips. “Hey.”

It never ceased to amaze him how she had the power to turn the most mundane of words into poetry with the sound of her voice. His jaw clenched as he willed himself to not dissolve into a fit of adulation at her feet. It had been three years for him, but for all he knew, it could’ve only been days for her. He should take care not to frighten her with how desperate he felt inside. He let out a breath, and squeezed her hand.

Footsteps from around the corner pulled them out of the mutual enchantment. Jack emerged as the source of the sound, and they both sighed with relief.

“John, you there? I thought I saw—” Jack stared at Rose, words trailing off. “It’s you—where—?”

“I came back.” She said with a proud smile.

He squinted at the Doctor, and then at Rose. “I thought you said she was gone? How’d you do it?”

The Doctor tugged at his earlobe. “Errm…”

“Well, I built my own time machine—” Rose began.

“Oh?” He tilted his head, intrigued.

“—so I could come back.”

He beamed at her, a fluttering feeling in his stomach. “How long has it been for you?”

“Couple months, maybe three. Sorry, I know it was a bit longer for you.” She let her gaze linger on the dimple in his cheek, and took a step towards him.

“I see.” He sighed. He’d _just_ finished writing the very same letter that cost him those three years. If only he’d written something sooner…

Jack shook his head at them. “As much as I am in favour of watching this play out, I’m in a bit of a hurry here. They’re looking for you inside, but as soon as they realise you’re not there, they’ll hunt you down.”

“Oh, crackers,” the Doctor muttered, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Tell them I’ve got lectures all afternoon and I just popped out for tea with, uh, with a colleague.”

“John—”

Rose gasped and a look of hope sprang to her face. “I’ve an idea!” She let go of the Doctor’s hand, making his heart ricochet in his chest. He watched, hand hovering in the air after her, as she dashed off to fetch the hat that had blown off from her head and into an iron stair rail nearby. She jogged back to offer it to Jack.

“Here, take this.  Say it’s Jenny’s. Tell ‘em you almost had us and you think we went underground. The Doctor said once that there’s an old entrance over that way below one of the buildings,” Rose said, gesturing vaguely. “Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

He nodded with a hum. “You _were_ listening.”

“Course I was.” She put her hand on his arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “So, yeah. We’ll go ‘round the building the other way till the coast is clear.” She looped her arm under the Doctor’s and threaded their fingers together.

Jack took the hat with a grim look on his face. “I’m sorry. John has to come with me, there’s no way around it.”

“No. Why?” She frowned. “Then I’m comin’ too.”

“It’s best if they still think you’ve vanished in a puff of logic, trust me.”

“Drives them barmy, that,” added the Doctor, waggling his eyebrows at her. “You’ve outdone their flair for the enigmatic.”

Rose grinned, tongue touching her teeth.

_Oh no. No, no. Not that one. Not now_. The Doctor swallowed as warmth spread through his limbs. Her eyes darted down to his lips, lashes dark against her peachy skin. Desire and overwhelming devotion surged through him, rooting him to the spot as the rest of the world fell away.

Jack coughed. “I know you haven’t seen her in a long time, but I promise you can shag her rotten after we deal with this little issue.”

The Doctor practically burst into flames at the very idea. He huffed and gave Jack the most perturbed look he could muster. “That’s quite enough.”

Rose winked at the Doctor, which only made him more flustered.

“And you…” He adjusted his tie. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Anyway, I’ve covered your ass too many times,” said Jack. “They’re starting to get suspicious about why there’s always a convenient excuse for your absence, and they’re threatening to go after Jenny if you don’t cooperate.”

The Doctor flinched at those words. “What?! How dare they threaten to harm a child!”

“No way,” Rose said, fists curled at her sides. “Just take me to ‘em. I’m who they want, and I can handle whatever they try to do to me. I’m meant to put a stop to this mess, I know it.”

“I’m sorry, Rose, but not this time. I’m sure if I can get John to talk to them they’ll back off again. They’ve been operating in secret for hundreds of years, so they don’t want to make a scene if they can help it.”

“And yet they employ Saxon,” the Doctor said with a scoff. He rolled his shoulders. “Fine. Take me to them. Rose, you know where the others went.”

She nodded, and averted her eyes. “Yeah...”

He stared at her, crestfallen. There was no doubt that she was internally weighing the risks of coming with them anyway.

Rose caught the Doctor’s eye, and smiled a little. She reached up to cup his face in her hands. After gazing wordlessly into his eyes, she pulled him towards her and placed a lingering kiss to his forehead.

His eyes closed, and he smiled despite the combination of embarrassment and worry buzzing through him.

“S’okay, Doctor,” she said. “I’m gonna go.”

Her hands dragged down his arms before she let him go. She took a few steps backward before turning to flee.

He watched her run off in the direction Donna and Jenny had gone, a heaviness returning to his chest. He clenched his fists and frowned.

“C’mon. You’ll see her again,” said Jack. “Let’s get this over with.”

The Doctor nodded slightly as he turned to follow Jack. He shoved his hands into his pockets, mood darkening considerably. As they returned to the courtyard, the Torchwood lackeys were waiting for him. They surrounded him like a pack of wolves.

“Caught him trying to run off.” He held up the hat as evidence, and feigned that he was out of breath. “Donna and the girl were with him, but they made it to some old London Underground entrance back that way. You three, go investigate.”

Three men saluted, and broke off to search the area.

“No!” The Doctor feigned a horrified posture. He glared at the remaining men once the others had disappeared in the alleyway. “Leave my family alone!”

“They won’t be harmed,” said Jack. “We just think you need a little more convincing.”

“But they’ve got nothing to do with this!”

Jack grimaced in an attempt to smirk. “Oh, but I think they do. The girl at least. She was unaffected by the meteorite, was she not? I think she’s more valuable to us than you realise.”

The Doctor clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “You can’t have her. She’s just a child!”

“Then just accept our offer. That’s all you have to do, and it’ll all be over with.”

“I’m not working for Torchwood. Not ever.” He tilted up his chin and glared down his nose at them. “My research is for the betterment of the world, not to be exploited by you lot.”

One of the other men, who’d exited the building later than the others, stepped forward with a slow clap. He tilted his hat back, letting the sunlight strike his face. “John,” he drawled with a cold smile.

The Doctor would recognize that supercilious, smug, smarmy little smirk anywhere.   

“Harold,” the Doctor bit back.

“Aw, you used my first name.” Saxon chuckled.

The Doctor’s lip curled with disgust. He glanced to Jack for answers.

Jack arched an eyebrow. “Uh… what’s going on here?”

Saxon put out his hand to Jack, not turning his gaze away from the Doctor. “I’ll take it from here. Tell me, John, old friend. Where is Rose Tyler?”

The Doctor hid a twinge of dread at the mention of her name. “I’ve already told you. She went back home!”

“You’re only making this harder for yourself, Doctor Noble,” said Saxon, tisking. “And your family.”

“No, I’m making this harder for _you._ If you’ll excuse me, I have a lecture to give, because… you know, I now have to teach your classes since you’ve gone and mucked up your career.” The Doctor sniffed, and turned to walk away.

He managed to only take a few steps before strong arms grabbed him on either side. He wiggled his arm into just the right position to grasp his screwdriver before the men had a good grip of him. He then let them shove him back towards Saxon.

A small crowd of on-lookers began to gather around them.

“Hey, what the hell’re you doing? We’ve got an audience now.” Jack said to Saxon, quiet but stern.

“Aw, don’t worry, Jack. They’ll be taken care of,” said Saxon, gesturing for the men to bring the Doctor closer. He smiled reassuringly, but it had the complete opposite effect. “Now! I think it’s high time for the university’s beloved crackpot professor to go missing. And don’t worry your pretty little head about the lectures. They’ll find some woman to take your place since everyone else is off to battle.”

The Doctor put on a show of struggling. He jammed the screwdriver against one of his captors’ sides and pressed a button, sending a jolt of energy through him. The man let go with a yelp as the Doctor did the same to the other. They howled from the shock, drawing more suspicious glances from the passers-by.

Once freed, the Doctor dashed from the courtyard. He ran down the pavement alongside the building where the faculty parked their bicycles. He stumbled as he grabbed one, his heart reaching an erratic tempo. A quick glance informed him that Saxon was on his trail. After fumbling for a moment, he hopped on one of the bicycles. Off he took, weaving amongst the automobiles and carriages on the busy London street.

A snag in traffic drove more adrenaline through the Doctor’s veins. He looked back once more, gritting his teeth. Saxon and his men were filing into a black car, but the Doctor had put a good distance between them. He turned off from the main road, and cycled for a few minutes, zooming past a flower shoppe and bakery. Not even the smell of freshly baked challah could stop him. At the next crossroads, the sleek black car pulled out in front of him and swerved, attempting to drive him to the curb.

The Doctor swooped by just in time. He grinned at the sound of skidding tyres behind him, but cringed at the consequent crush of metal. Leaning forward into the wind, he pedaled harder, and turned off into a narrow alley. The bicycle sailed through puddles and rubbish. Someone shouted at him from the back door of a business on account of nearly being ran over.

“Sorry!” He shouted over his shoulder as he shot through the alley exit and turned down another side road. Relieved that his pursuers were nowhere in sight, he eased off on the speed and cut a zig-zagged path through the city to ensure they’d lost his trail. Donna’s neighbourhood was not far now. He veered off through a park and eventually reached his destination.

He rode around to the back of her home, thankful she lived in an end unit. After tossing the bicycle over the fence, he climbed over and hurried to the door. Rose opened the door.

 “Doctor!” She pulled him inside with an embrace.

“Had a bit of a rough day at work,” he said, squeezing her as he caught his breath.

She smiled, though her eyes remained worried. “Made it home just in time for supper.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Jenny wedged herself between them and gave them each a squeeze.

Rose shifted awkwardly in the three-way hug. “We haven’t been here long. You weren’t followed were you?”

“No. Don’t think so. Lost their trail long ago.”

“What the hell happened?” Donna said, locking the door.

“Saxon showed up. They grabbed me. Tried to take me right in front of the university, but I got away. They gave a chase, so I had to nick a bicycle… not sure who it belongs to, but I hope they find another way home.”

“Saxon? Why would Jack take you to him?” asked Rose.

“Jack didn’t seem to realise he was amongst the men that accompanied him.”

“That’s rather oblivious of him.”

“Saxon has this way of blending in before he’s ready to strike. Sort of like a snake.”

“Think Jack’ll get into trouble?” asked Jenny.

The Doctor furrowed his brow. “I hope not. He’ll probably have to stay out of contact with us for a time to ensure his cover.”

“What are we gonna do? We can’t just run from them forever,” said Donna.

“We’ll have to face them head on. Torchwood has to be stopped. Things get…” Rose hesitated and bit her lip, her glance sliding to the floor. “They do some really awful things.”

The Doctor’s brow furrowed. “Like what?”

“I—I dunno how much I should say. It hasn’t happened yet, but trust me. They use the meteorite for—”

“That’s enough.” The Doctor gave her a look of warning. Rose nodded, and resumed biting her thumbnail.

“What’s she talking about, John?” asked Donna.

He inhaled deeply, not answering, and turned to walk into the sitting room to peer out of the window for any sign of Torchwood. Rose joined him after urging Donna to stay in the kitchen.

“We can’t stay here long. Jack will tell them to come here,” he said softly, not looking at her, but relishing her presence at his side all the same.

“He’s on our side I thought.”

“Saxon was with them, so that tells me they’re keeping an eye on him. He’ll have to play their game for a little while or their suspicions will be confirmed. It’s strange. Saxon’s not typically one for working with a team. Anyway, if Jack doesn’t tell them, they’ll figure out soon enough where we are. They’re not entirely stupid.”

Rose chuckled. “Yeah, for once I’m glad I’ve got no mobile with GPS for them to track like they do on telly.”

Oh she really knew how to pique his interest. But now wasn’t the time. He turned and headed for the stairs. “We need to go somewhere private.”

“’Kay…”

Once they reached Donna’s room, the Doctor closed the door and an uncomfortable silence settled between them. Rose walked over to the bed and sat, lip caught by her teeth.

After checking outside of the windows, he moved to sit next to her. “All right. Tell me everything.”

She looked up at him, her brows meeting in worry. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. It’s best if I know everything so I can devise the best course of action. No offense, but I’m the time travel expert here.”

Rose made a face at him. “Built my own time machine, remember?”

He smiled. “And how did you do such a clever thing?”

“Well…” She straightened out an awkward fold in her dress, then went on to explain everything to him, just as he wanted, starting with how he’d left her a letter stating that the time machine in his attic was almost complete. She mentioned discovering that Jenny would be taken, and that the Doctor turned himself in so that Jenny could be released. There was a bit about how he’d left her instructions in the form of a cipher for building a temporary time machine. She was mostly keen to inform him of all of the people and animals who’d lose their lives to Torchwood’s cruel experimentation, and how she wanted to stop it herself.

“I’d never agree to help them, especially if I knew they were using my research to end lives.” 

“I don’t think you knew it was happenin’.”

“Even so…” The Doctor found her tale increasingly preposterous, though it wasn’t that he didn’t believe her. That version of him faced a life without Rose. That version might’ve made different choices.

“What should we do?”

He scratched the back of his head with a sigh. “I don’t know. I’m just trying not to think of the enormous paradox we’ve got on our hands. Jenny would have to be captured in order for me to negotiate her release so that I can be captured and leave you the cipher. Through all of these changed events, I could end up never teaching Susan, and might never give her the pocket watch that sent you back in time in the first place. It’s all too much.”

“But I’m here, so it still happens, yeah?” She twisted the overlay on her skirt in her hands. “Or am I gonna disappear? What does the universe do with broken timelines?”

The Doctor would’ve normally found those questions brilliant, and he’d answer them just as brilliantly. But his curiosity was far too clouded by dread. He worked his jaw, glaring a hole in the floor.

Rose looked down at her hands and sniffled. “M’sorry.”

“Why ever for?” He shifted, making their knees touch. Her hands continued to fret with her dress, and he put one of his over them both. “Rose?”

“I just wanted to be with you again.”

He curled his fingers under her palm, and brushed her wrist with his thumb. “I don’t fault you for that. I never would.”

She smiled, though her eyes were filled with tears. It tore at his very soul. He tenderly brushed a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “We’ll figure something out. We’re a hell of a team.”

“It’s okay if you’re angry at me about it,” she said, leaning her face against his hand.

He sighed. “I’m angry, but not at you.”

She closed her eyes and just rested there with her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair. Would the universe implode if he pulled her into his arms and kissed her until they were both warm and glowing? He nearly succumbed to his wayward thoughts, until he realised this was Donna’s bedroom. The universe certainly might not’ve minded, but Donna would never let him hear the end of it. After the comfortable span of silence, her eyes fluttered open.

“What if we’re in a new universe?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“A new universe, you know. Alternate timeline created by changed events.”

“No, no. Those don’t form in retrospect. They form at the moment of variability. You’ve already learnt that I never saw you again, and yet now I have. It’s the very definition of a paradox.”

“All right. What if… what if it only appeared to me as though you never saw me again? Even if what I saw was real. Say… What if you come to the future with me? You and Jenny. Donna too, if she wants. You’ll still seem to vanish to the outside world, which is the same as what happened, yeah? Then you can, I dunno, fake the key moments. Stage a photo of yourself creating the cipher and go back in time a bit to plant it in the files.”

“Oh, Rose. We’d be fixing this mess our entire lives.” He laughed. “Could you imagine? I’ll go back in time a century every morning and work as a professor—that’s one hell of a commute, by the way. Get to know Susan and take her on as my apprentice, only to return home to you in 2040 by the end of the day to eat your delicious home cooked meals.”

Rose laughed at that. “Let me tell you somethin’ about women in the twenty-first century.”

“They don’t cook for their husbands?”

She kept giggling. “Some do, I’m sure, but I—wait,” she stopped laughing and stared at him. “Husbands?”

“Er, well… I figured, uhm…” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s terribly domestic, now that you mention it.” He scrunched up his nose even as his stomach swooped from embarrassment.  “Back to what you said about us going to the future.”

Rose shrugged a shoulder. “It might work. Torchwood’s a secret organization. The world doesn’t know about what they did, so if we stop people from being killed with this meteorite experimentin’, maybe the things we gotta fix won’t be so difficult.”

“You’re serious.”

“Either that, or I’m stayin’ here.”

His hopeful expression instantly shifted. He frowned and his brows lowered. “Absolutely not. What if they capture you? _You’d_ be experimented upon, and that might make everything far worse.”

“So you agree that we’d have more control over making sure everything’s okay if you come with me to the future?” She picked at a loose stitch on her dress, averting her eyes. “But I understand if you don’t want to. You have people here that need you. This is your world, and I don’t wanna take you away from it. But I—“ she drew in a shaky breath and sighed. “I love you.”

The Doctor smiled handsomely. “As you should. Look at me.”

Rose laughed and bumped her shoulder against his. “Quite right.”

He adjusted his suit jacket, putting on a bit of a show to hide the fact that her words made him want to compose a symphony exalting her bravery and kindness so that she’d be known throughout space and time as the love of his life. Oh, he shouldn’t come on too strongly, especially after the ‘husband’ slip-up.

And so he sobered, capturing her hand. “I suppose, now that I have a chance to say it...” He swallowed at the deep, resounding hope in her eyes for what could come next. “Rose Tyler—“

“JOHN!” Donna shouted up from the stairs.

The Doctor and Rose sprang apart, and were to their feet in an instant.

“GET DOWN HERE!”

They leapt into action, flying down the stairs and up to where Donna stood by the front bay window.

“What? What!?” The Doctor said in a panic, hands flailing.

Rose joined them, looking slightly perturbed. “Better be good.”

“There’s a car parked across the road,” said Jenny.

“Cars _never_ come down this road. Couple’a blokes crawled out, now they’re sniffing around the houses,” Donna added.

“I knew it. I knew they’d see through your little paperwork deception,” the Doctor groused.

Donna thwapped him against the arm. “Don’t you think they’d come straight here if that were true, you great big prat! Jack had to’ve given them vague directions.”

“She has a point, daddy,” said Jenny.

“Why the hell are we still standin’ around? We’ve gotta get out of here! They’ll shake down every house on this street to find us, yeah?” Rose gestured to emphasize her point.

“Where will we go? What if they catch us?” Jenny looked up at everyone in turn, and for the first time she truly seemed like the child she was. Frightened and instinctively relying on the adults in her presence for protection.

The Doctor went to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. “They won’t catch us. Not this time.”

“They haven’t caught us before,” argued Jenny.

“Err…” He coughed, remembering Rose’s warning about what she’d learnt happened to Jenny from her visit to the future. His protective instincts kicked in, and he sat on a nearby chair so he could speak to Jenny face-to-face. “Rose and I had a discussion earlier, and think the safest course of action is to, uh…How do you feel about travelling in a time machine?”

“By myself?”

He shook his head emphatically. “What did I say? You’ll not have to live alone in the world ever again. I’ll be with you. And Rose.”

She looked down at her feet. “I’ll go wherever you go.”

The Doctor felt a lump in his throat, and caught Rose smiling at them out of the corner of his eye. He tugged at his ear. “Erm, well, you might not always feel that way.”

“Wait, what’s this? You’re leaving?” Donna said, hands on her hips.

He groaned and stood. After a quick glance out of the window to assess that the men were still wasting their time checking homes on the other side of the street, he waved his hand. “Rose, go ahead and tell her.”

“All of it?”

“Everything you told me.” He turned back to the window, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Rose nodded and drew in a steadying breath. She began to relay her experience, careful not to reveal too many side details. Just the important bits to illustrate why Torchwood shouldn’t get away with their schemes, and why they had to leave for the future.

Donna listened, her lips pinched the way they did when weighing her options.

“So you can come with us, if you want,” said Rose. “But if you stay here—“

“I’d have to put a stop to things,” Donna finished for her. “I really… I don’t know if I can do that. Me?”

“You don’t have to get involved,” said the Doctor. “That’s not what we’re saying.”

“You can’t just tell me that people are gonna be tortured, and expect me not to want to do anything.”

“You can rely on Jack and Sarah Jane for assistance,” said the Doctor. “But I have faith in you, Donna.”

Donna rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, tosh. I’m nothing.”

“You’re brilliant, you are.”

“Stop it.” She furrowed her brow and glared at the walls. A sorrowful look crossed her face and she sighed. “How could Torchwood get away with something like that? Sounds positively horrendous. Like what they do to mental patients in asylums, have you heard?”

The Doctor nodded gravely.

Donna looked at Rose. “Have you any ideas on what I should do? I still haven’t decided if I’ll stay, mind.”

“Find Sarah Jane first of all,” Rose said. “Sarah Jane Smith. She’s a freelance newsagent. Tell her we sent you. Tell her everything, and she’ll help. Right Doctor?”

“Right. She was with us in Scotland, so she knows of the meteorite.”

Donna went quiet after that, and her eyes glossed over with tears. “I won’t see you again if I stay. Any of you.”

The Doctor looked down, his heart sinking.

Rose put her hand on Donna’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t assume the worst. The Doctor figured out how to travel in time, remember?”

Donna laughed. “Oh, my god. You really are a bloody genius.”

“They’re coming!” Jenny shouted.

Sure enough, the Torchwood men were crossing the road, headed for Donna’s home.

“Go!” The Doctor ushered Jenny as they all scrambled to the kitchen.

Donna opened the back door. “There’s a way through the fence. A few loose boards. Reinette uses it to, uhm…” She turned red once they all joined her at the back door. “Well—”

“She uses it to sneak in and spend time with you so no one will recognise you’re ‘ _friends_ ’ with a lady of a high house, blah, blah, blah. Just show us!” The Doctor interjected.

Donna glared at him and muttered a few colourful insults as she opened the door. She led them through the fence, and across into another street of rowhouses. Clouds had gathered whilst they were inside, and the air was thick with promise of rain. The area was empty save for a woman walking to her home with a basket of produce.

“We stick out like sore thumbs,” said the Doctor.

“Well stop looking so daft all the time.” Donna stormed past him, and waved them to follow her into a wooded area just beyond the row houses.

The Doctor scoffed. Obviously she was still sore about him calling out her little affair. “Surely you don’t mean _me_?”

“Have you seen your hair lately?”

The Doctor stammered for a moment, before responding. “What’s wrong with my hair? Anyway, we haven’t got time for this.”

“Gallifrey Library or the theatre. What’s the quickest way there?” Rose asked, ignoring their argument.

“There isn’t really a quick way on foot,” answered Donna.

“Down that way!” Jenny said, pointing into a Thames drainage tunnel hidden in the wood.

Donna made a face. “Uhm.”

“It leads to an old sewage tunnel that lets out in the alley behind the theatre,” Jenny said with a grin.

“So that’s how you’ve been watching those plays!” the Doctor exclaimed.

Jenny held her finger up to her lips and shushed him. “They’ll hear you.”

“Let’s go then,” Rose said, shouldering past them.

She climbed down the embankment with Jenny and both of them disappeared through the trees into the tunnel. The Doctor and Donna followed. Thunder rolled across the sky in the distance and drizzle began to fall. It tapped the leaves in a steady rhythm, covering the sounds of their feet across the embankment.

The Doctor ducked into the dank drainage tunnel next, but before Donna could enter, she froze. The Doctor looked up and peered across the distance to see the Torchwood men approaching the woman with the basket. The woman gestured into the trees in their general direction.

“Bollocks.”

“You go, I’ll hold ‘em off,” said Donna.

“No way. You’re coming with us,” said the Doctor.

“You heard what Rose said! I can’t let that happen. No. I’m staying here.”

The Doctor frowned, his heart sinking. The only family he had left he might not ever get to see again. “All right.”

Donna hugged the Doctor, tears in her eyes.  “I promise I won’t forget you, now get out of here you big dumbo.”

The Doctor returned her embrace tightly. Rain fell over them, rivulets slipping down their faces as he looked into her eyes. “I’m so sorry. This is all so sudden.”

“Stop it. I’ve got the Madame. I’ll be fine.”

The Doctor smiled. “Promise you’ll tell me about your life? Leave it for me somewhere in the attic maybe. I’ll find it… I just want to know you’ll be okay. In the meantime I’ll see about the possibility of visitation.”

Donna wiped tears and rain from her face with the back of her hand. “Go on then. I’ll lead them away from here.”

The Doctor watched her run off before he slipped into the darkness of the drainage tunnel. He caught up with Rose and Jenny soon after, too upset to hide his mood.

“Where’s Donna?” asked Rose.

“She’s not coming.” He glared ahead and removed his screwdriver, lighting it up with a press of a button. Rose took his hand, and wordlessly they followed Jenny through the tunnel.

Just as Jenny claimed, there was an exit in the alleyway beside the theatre.

“Wonder how far we are from the tunnel we’re tryin’ to get to,” said Rose, putting a hand on the old early Victorian-era stonework.

“Few metres over through stone and solid ground, parallel to this one,” answered the Doctor. “Can’t get to it from here if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Why doesn’t London cave in from all the tunnels everywhere?” Jenny asked.

“Human ingenuity,” the Doctor said impatiently. “Let’s get a move on.”

When they emerged, they headed straight for the library, where Rose took the lead. Thankfully there was no sign that they’d been tracked down. The library was quiet, as they often were, but there weren’t many students milling about, which made their presence less likely to be remembered. Good.

They slowed their steps and meandered, attempting to appear nonchalant.

“Just carry on like we’re here to browse books and no one will notice a thing,” the Doctor responded with a pause to drag his finger along a book spine. “Huh, I’ve been looking for this one.”

Rose leaned against the book case, and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Hmm. Always wanted to have a quiet snog in the stacks with a professor. What d’you say?”

The Doctor arched an eyebrow, intrigued, but feeling woefully mature in the present situation. “I daresay that’d be on the conspicuous side were anyone to see us.”

“That’s part of the thrill.” Rose looked at her fingernails.

“You… really—I mean, you, uh…,” he carded a hand through his hair, swallowing. “We’ll discuss that later.”

“Gross,” said Jenny, wrinkling up her nose.

Rose smiled with a cheeky wink, and headed off to the spiral staircase. They made their way down to the storage room and into the tunnel without trouble. Rose paused to deactivate the wall illusion, and they entered the platform room.

There it sat, the time travel platform, its metal pylons gleaming like curved teeth in the darkness. As thrilling as it was to gaze at something he hadn’t invented yet, he couldn’t avoid the undercurrent of foreboding that came with it.

He looked over at Rose, curious. “You’re not disappearing, though you’re looking straight at an anachronism from your time.”

“You seemed to’ve perfected the mind-link with this one,” she said, stroking the terminal affectionately. “But you’ll still have to focus on the date. The Fifteenth of October, 2008.”

“Understood.”

“Go on you two, stand up there. I’ll activate the transport sequence.”

The Doctor climbed aboard and held Jenny’s hand. The machine powered up with a great hum, and his insides went all wobbly. He closed his eyes to the strange, dizzying sensation, but relaxed as he felt Rose’s hand slip into his.

“Fifteenth of October, 2008,” she said. The last words he heard before everything succumbed to darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to lostinfic and lauraxxtennant for your feedback and encouragement!  
> I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to reply to your lovely reviews. I wanted to get this part finished and posted quickly. Hope you enjoy!! This is the last official chapter. I am writing a little epilogue, but it's just going to be pure family fluff.
> 
> EDIT: I added a little bit to this chapter when Rose is in the Doctor's office/project room. Many of you were a lot more invested in them fixing the paradox than I expected (I thought people would mostly be interested in the reunion), so I tried to add a bit there to show that they've been working on it. I originally was going to address it in the Epilogue, which I still will, but this way you can see how they've started out down that path. I hope that helps! Honestly I could write an entire part 2 to this fic that addresses that problem, so at this time I'd like to keep it a little ambiguous. ;)

_15th October, 2008_

The first thing the Doctor noticed was the smell. A metallic tang mixed with accents of burnt carbon, sewage, and greasy food hung in the dank underground air. He wrinkled his nose until he acclimated to the pungent aroma.

“Doctor, we made it,” Rose said, tugging on his arm. He felt her leave his side.

He opened one eye, then the other. On the surface, the cave looked exactly the same as it had before. He inspected his surroundings, noticing a small gathering of people wearing peculiar clothes near the platform terminal.

Jenny leaned against him, seeking protection, and he put his hand on her opposite shoulder.

“It’s okay, love,” he said to her gently.

They both turned around to face the room proper, and saw that Rose had stepped down to hug the man with thinning ginger hair. Her step-father, he presumed. She moved on to embrace the others. Friends, perhaps, or colleagues. He recalled her tales of them, and tried to affix faces with the details he remembered.

He then watched as Rose peered over at the machine’s screen to inspect whatever it displayed.

“Oh, look at that! You’ve only been waiting two hours!” Rose beamed.

“Yes, well within projections,” said the fellow to whom she spoke.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century,” someone said off to the side.

The Doctor smiled and stepped off the platform. “Hello, well met.”

Rose, still smiling as she finished hugging a black woman wearing tight men’s clothing, returned to his side and took his hand.

“Doctor, this is my step-father, Pete,” she guided him over to Pete. “Dad, meet Doctor John Noble, and his daughter, Jenny.”

Pete nodded with a smile. “Hello Jenny, this must be quite exciting for you, is it?”

Jenny nodded, but remained quiet by the Doctor’s side.

Pete shook hands with the Doctor. “We’re glad you could make it, Doctor Noble. What was it like to travel in time? I’d always imagined it would be like atoms flying apart and rebuilding, but it was more like folding time, wasn’t it?”

“Time folded around the meteorites, since they exist in four-dimensions, so whatever was within that fold becomes four-dimensional as well. Then all you do is pinpoint your destination, deactivate the meteorites, and voila!” The Doctor snapped, and absently inspected the platform’s construction as he spoke. “But there is a potential of being exposed to unknown particles… it has made many people sick, as you know. Oh! We’re a century ahead! Those particles have to’ve been identified by now, surely? Have you got a lab somewhere?”

Pete exchanged looks with the others.

Rose forced a smile and grabbed the Doctor by his arm. “Um, let’s talk about that later, yeah? Come and meet my best mates, Martha and Mickey.”

He greeted them with a smile, shaking their hands as one does. When he reached the lady called Martha, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

She raised her eyebrows and her lips quirked. “Oh, I like him.”

The one called Mickey rolled his eyes. “Oi. Just so you know, we don’t do that anymore.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows raised. “Interesting! I shall keep that in mind. My apologies, miss Martha Jones.”

She shrugged, the keen grin still alighting her face. “Oh, I don’t mind at all, mister.”

Jenny tugged on the Doctor’s sleeve. “Can I wear trousers, daddy? She’s wearing trousers with boots!”

“Erm, I don’t see why not.”

“Come along, we’ve got clothes for you lot,” said Pete. “Jake, have your team begin dismantling the platform. I’ll phone the lorry. We need this thing back on our premises ASAP.”

“Yes, sir,” Jake said with a salute.

They went along to the basement of the library, where they changed into modern clothing. Rose assisted Jenny, whilst Mickey assisted the Doctor.

“Didn’t exactly have it tailored, but she said you was tall and skinny,” said Mickey.

The Doctor slid into the blue pinstriped trousers, and pulled on the maroon short-sleeved shirt. “An odd combination, don’t you agree?” he said as he held up the blue pinstriped suit jacket. “Do men no longer wear braces, ties, or waistcoats?”

“Only if you’re a douchebag.”

The Doctor blinked. “What a fascinating insult!”

“Mickey!” Rose snapped from the other side of the room.

“S’true,” he mumbled.

“There,” the Doctor said, buttoning up the suit jacket. “How do I look?”

Mickey shrugged. “I dunno. Like you didn’t just walk off the set of _Downton Abbey_.”

“I have no idea what that means, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Rose joined them, and the Doctor tilted his head at her attire. Dark trousers, sturdy shoes, and a tight-fitting mauve shirt. She’d taken her hair down as well, and only pinned the fringe off to the side.

She held out her arms and did a little spin. “What do you think?”

He averted his gaze and leaned in, speaking low. “I can very much tell the shape of you, is that the intention?”

She laughed. “It’s just comfortable. Look at you!” She stepped back to get a longer look at him. “Definitely needs a tie and proper shirtsleeves, but it’ll do.”

“Your friend Mickey informed me that it would make me a douchebag if I wore all of that.”

“What’s a douchebag?” asked Jenny, peering around Rose. She’d been dressed in trousers and a too-large, zippered jacket with _Punky Fish_ written in sloppy letters across the front.

“Ahhh-I’m feeling peckish, why don’t we go get a bite to eat?” Rose said.

“Oh, yes! Something I couldn’t have tried before would do well.”

_///_

_6 hours later_

Humans, on the whole, are highly adaptable creatures. Capable of settling in all sorts of environments, and enduring innumerable hardships to survive as a species. The human mind, as a result, has evolved an imagination that pulls them ever onward towards possibility. When will we grow weary of this ever-lasting reach into the void? Millions and millions of years pass by. Does a species as a whole feel the ache of immortality? Are we seeking to create ourselves, or to destroy?

The Doctor stared at the inventions surrounding him. The television on the chest of drawers, the smartboard on the bedside table. Even the bed in which he sat propped against synthetic fibre pillows was created with comfort in mind, not adventure. Not that he minded so much, but he thought that by this time there’d be colonies on the moon.

Jenny welcomed this new adventure like any child might—with wonder and excitement. But it all felt off to him somehow. Like how it felt when the sun shone from a crystal blue sky whilst somewhere out at sea his parents slumbered in the sunken hull of a ship. A juxtaposition of disaster and beauty.

He’d get used to this. They’d figure out all the weak spots in the timeline and mend them up like a well-worn suit. Then he could settle into a life with Rose that he’d always wanted, but never thought could be his. Until then he would worry endlessly about how Donna lived out the rest of her life, and whether Saxon’s devious plans had been carefully foiled.

There was a knock at the door. The Doctor looked over the edge of his book (oh, right, he’d been reading), and adjusted the specs on his nose.

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

He marked his place in the book, set it on the bedside table, and then climbed out of the enormously comfortable bed. When he opened the door to find Rose standing in the hall, wearing an overlarge shirt with her legs bared to his eyes, he began to sweat.

She fumbled with the hem of the shirt, and looked askance. Her cheeks turned pink under his gaze. He swallowed and stepped aside to let her in, and quietly closed the door behind her.

“Can’t sleep either?” she said, ducking her head towards her shoulder, looking about as self-conscious as he felt.

“I’m rather invested in this book,” he said, nodding towards where it rested upon the table, trying desperately to ignore the scent of apple blossom, mint, and _Rose_ that surrounded him at her entry.

“It’s 2am.” She smiled as she ran her fingers over the cover. “Harry Potter?”

“It’s amazing! Have you read it? Oh, I’d have hated to miss out on reading a treasure like that. I find I can relate to it a bit! An orphan, somewhat of an outcast, and so forth.” He tempered his excitement with a sniff when he noticed her growing smirk. “I’m, ah, reading it to see if it’d be appropriate for Jenny of course.”

Rose laughed. “She’s like ten years old. I think that’s the perfect age to start.”

“Oh, yes, right.”

Her smiling face fell a little, and she went quiet. She began a messy attempt to plait her hair over her shoulder, and finally spoke.

“H-how is she settling in, by the way?”

“Like she was meant to be here.”

“Good. That’s…yeah.” Rose looked away and ran a hand through her hair, unweaving the plait. She began to fidget with little knickknacks on the dresser.

He watched her, wondering if she was upset with him for putting a child at risk by inviting them to travel in time.

“Err…I’m relieved, actually. She’s had a difficult life, and in the midst of panic I hadn’t really considered how such drastic changes might affect her.”

Rose looked at the ceiling, nodding absently.

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. Yes, something bothered her. “All right, Rose?”

“Yeah, m’just- She’s sort of like your daughter now.” She laughed awkwardly. “I mean of course, ‘cos you adopted her. But, I guess—never mind. I dunno what I’m sayin’.”

“Indeed she is. Does that- does it bother you?”

“It doesn’t.” She shook her head and smiled unconvincingly.

He looked at her askance.

“Maybe a little. Not that you adopted her—I think that’s lovely, really I do. But if we’re, um… if we’re together, does that mean I’d be her mum?”

“She asked me the very same question.”

“What did you say?”

“That’s up to you two, I reckon.” He shrugged, a gesture of ironic nonchalance. “But she’d love it, I’m sure. As would I.”

Rose nodded, and her smile reemerged. “Either way, Doctor, we both know you’re reading that book for yourself.”

“Uhm, truth be told, my mind keeps wandering. I’m finding it difficult to sleep. I keep thinking about, well… My brain is wired for another era, you see.”

“I was like that my first few nights in 1912. Everything was so different, you know? So strange and overwhelming.” She toyed with a strand of her hair.

He hummed, relating. “Culture shock. Everything is so busy and vibrant in the future. People are boisterous and far more straight-forward. Your mother is… well. She has a strong personality.”

Rose giggled a little, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Don’t you say nothin’ bad about my mum.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. To her face at least.” He rubbed the cheek where she’d slapped him earlier that afternoon. “I know she’s just looking out for you.”

“There is a bit of an age difference.”

He shrugged. “It’s not so peculiar where, erm, _when_ I’m from.”

“Lucky you.” She smiled and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “So, you was gonna say something to me before Donna shouted at us to come downstairs.”

He froze at her coy tone. His mouth went dry as he tried with great difficulty not to admire the shape of her thighs as her hands tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Erm, I was, wasn’t I.”

“Go on then. What was the end of that sentence?” She hooked a finger into the material of his pyjama shirt, tilting her face up to him.

He reached for her, arms encircling her waist. “I said ‘Rose Tyler…’”

“Yeah?” Her lashes lowered as she drifted forward. Her lips were plump and parted, and he licked his own reflexively.

“Does it need saying?”

Rose’s hands stilled on his shoulders and she searched his face.

He dipped towards her and kissed her forehead. “You have to know.” He trailed kisses down her temple and over her ear. “How profoundly I love you.”

He straightened and she held his gaze for a beat. Then, without warning, her hands gripped his pyjama lapel and pulled him flush against her. Like a meteor crashing to earth, unable to withstand the ecstasy of gravity, his lips came down on hers. The pressure of her body aligning with his struck a match within the core of his being. Soon every nerve was alight with wanting her.

Her hands were soft and strong all at once. Caressing, gripping, rending at his clothes. He was more cautious with her, however. Tender strokes of his fingertips along her waist, up her shirt. Caught in the excruciating balance between wanting to savour every curve and dip of her body and wanting to plunge headlong into her blazing heat. He was going to lose his mind if he didn’t decide.

Rose kissed his collar, making him dizzy. He groaned against her shoulder as his thumb brushed the underside of her breast. She had to know what this was doing to him. Her leg hooked up over his hip and she guided his hand, leaving him no question as to what he was doing to her.

He turned them as they kissed, and lowered her on the bed, but before he could join her, she sat up and pulled his hips closer. She fumbled with the waistband of his pyjama, and kissed his abdomen. Soon her hands found him straining for her touch. She looked up at him through her lashes and a shudder went through him. Bowing her head towards him, he soon felt her breath on his flesh, and desperately but gently guided her away.

“I want you too much,” he said with shallow breath. Oh, he was mad to redirect her from such a thing, but it would all be over far too quickly that way.

Her lips twisted in a devious smile as she fell back on the bed. She bit her nail and she stared up at him, eyes dark and inviting.

“Come and get it.”

“Oh, yes…” He swallowed. “Well worth the potential universe-ending paradox.”

Rose laughed, and the sound made his heart light up.

He leaned over her, sliding her shirt up as he kissed the soft skin of her abdomen up to the taut peak of each breast. Her hands glided over his shoulders, nails dragging and making him shiver. Her body was a canvas to every stroke of his hands, and she fell apart with his fingers curving inside of her just like she’d shown him those years ago.

Her body glowed in the balm of pleasure, and her scent drove him into a frenzy of need. She kissed his neck, whispering how much she wanted him despite having already come apart at the seams. Her hips undulated below him, unable to keep still, unable to quell her eager cries for him to just close the last few inches of distance between them. It was enough to end him right then and there. She sighed his name as he entered her, and it wasn’t long before starlight burst behind his eyes.

In the late morning, they awoke in each other’s arms. The sweat may have cooled, but not the lazy desire still swirling in their veins. He smiled and traced circles along her back as she nuzzled his chest.

“Marry me,” he murmured against her hair.

“Wha?”

“Please?” He kissed her jaw, tasting the salt of sweat on her skin.

 “Right now?”

“Well,” he gulped. “Eventually.”

She giggled, and slung a leg over his, pressing herself intimately against him. “Mm, might have to if I can wake up to this every morning.”

He hummed in delight, and kissed her shoulder. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She tensed in his arms.

“Or, perhaps not. I’m sorry, I—”

She pressed her lips to his, snuffing out his words of doubt. After her tender kiss, she looked into his eyes, her own shining. “I love you, Doctor. I do. But ask me again when you’re sure you want to stay here.”

Oh, he was already sure, but she was right to urge caution. He nodded, brushing his knuckles across her cheek softly.

“I want to stay with you. Whether here or elsewhere.”

Rose smiled and closed her eyes at his words. “Me too.”

///

_December 19 th, 2008_

“No peeking!” The Doctor said, adjusting her blindfold.

Rose smiled, though there was a coil of anticipation winding up in her belly that made her fidget. “Hurry it up then!”

She felt the crisp winter breeze against her cheeks as he guided her out of the car. Snow crunched under her boots, and she slipped a little on a patch of ice. The Doctor was there to keep her steady. They walked a few steps, and he stopped. His hands were firm on her shoulders, and he leaned to whisper in her ear.

“All right. You can look.” He tugged at the knot of the blindfold, and it fell away from her eyes. “Happy Christmas!”

She blinked, tilting her head. Before her, through clouds of cold breath, was a well-maintained Victorian rowhouse with a bay window and a little iron spired gate in front. Glistening snow blanketed the roof, and smoke puffed from the chimney. Christmas lights and bunches of holly were strung up across the eaves.

“Donna’s old place!”  A wreath decorated the front door, which was a brilliant shade of blue. Not just any blue: the blue of the Doctor’s time travel wardrobe. Ideas spun in her head, but she waited on him to confirm her suspicions.

“Yes, but Rose… it’s now _our_ house!” He threw his arms out in celebration. “Well,” he tilted his head. “ _Technically_ it’s my house, but someday I—,” he sniffed and tugged his ear.

Bingo. She grinned and danced a little on the spot. “It’s beautiful! How’d you manage that?”

“Basically, I discovered that it was on the market, so I popped over to my old bank and what do you know? My savings account had amassed a small fortune over the years.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open. “Ooh yeah?”

“Perks of being a time traveller.” He winked. “Your father helped me get the paperwork I needed for ownership, but indeed it is now my home. I’ve already moved everything here from my old attic at the university and everything.” He straightened his tie, pleased as punch.

“Blimey, you’ve been busy!”

“As have you, what with the Torchwood day job, and evening classes.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Gave me a chance to sneak out.”

“Cheeky,” Rose said, putting her gloved hand on the little gate.

“Let’s have a look inside, shall we?” He held up his arm for her. “At some point in the nineties, this unit was merged with the unit by its side, so it’s quite a bit larger. It would seem you future-dwellers crave more space.”

“It’s a rare luxury in London.”

Rose placed her hand in the hook of his elbow, and he led her through the gate and up to the porch. He opened the door and gestured for her to step inside.

The gentle melody of a piano was heard drifting through the house as they entered. His old gramophone sat in the corner by the stairs, and a fire crackled in the hearth. She smiled, her heart soaring.

The Doctor closed the door. “What do you think?”

“Oh…wow.” It was like stepping into a dream. Her eyes prickled as she recalled that Christmas Eve in 1912. The home even smelled much the same.

The hardwood floors looked refinished, and from her vantage-point, the kitchen appeared to have many updates. What would’ve been the neighbouring home had now become an open dining and family room, and lights from a Christmas tree speckled the open space like fireflies.

“Wouldn’t Donna like to see what it looks like now!”

“Mmm, indeed. Ah… Rose?”

“Yeah?”

He moved closer to her. “I, ehm…” He looked up at the ceiling.

She followed his gaze and saw a sprig of mistletoe above their heads. It was like when they first met, only this time they weren’t surrounded by his colleagues.

“You really thought this out didn’t you?” Rose smirked, putting her hands on his shoulders.

He scratched the back of his neck. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.”

“Oh!” Rose exclaimed, knowing full well that she was giving him a little tease. “What’s upstairs like?” She spun away from him, and bounded over to the staircase. She’d give him a proper kiss eventually. No mistletoe required.

The Doctor followed, huffing a little.

Rose reached the top floor, a bounce to her steps. Donna’s old room in the back of the house had been set up as a master bedroom, and the room in the front where Rose had lived was furnished with a small bed, a desk, and bookshelf.

“That’s Jenny’s room,” the Doctor said. “She’s off playing with a friend of hers right now. But you see I got her a proper desk where she can do her homework.”

"She'll still prefer tinkering with you."

“Obviously just as educational.”

“Obviously.” She said with a tongue-touched grin.

He cleared his throat. “Erm, come this way.”

He strolled down the little hall to the two other bedrooms. He directed her to the back room, which had been decorated with all of the Doctor’s effects from the attic. Books, paintings, the desk, blackboard and all. The blue wardrobe also sat between the two windows, perfectly intact.

Sprawled over the blackboard, and tacked to walls and even dangling from the ceiling in one corner was the complicated paradox map they'd been working on in the basement at her parent's home. He'd moved the whole lot of it - written equations, maps of London old and new, newspaper clippings, notes, and photos - without missing a single detail. Even the colored string, some red and others blue, they'd begun to weave to connect it all together had been arranged just so.

Rose clapped her hands together. “Wow, you've made a lot of progress! You did this bit without me." She pointed to a cluster of red string connections encroaching the area by his spyglass.

He rocked on his toes, beaming. “Yep! Didn't think you'd mind. It's all off limits to us anyhow, but this..." he stepped over to a blue string stretched across the window. "This is a breakthrough. It might even be where we need to start."

"Blimey..." She peered at it closely. It was indeed the pathway closest to where the old timeline diverged from the new, as they'd theorised. 

"Oh, another thing, do you recall me mentioning that I asked Donna to write to me?”

Rose nodded. “And we couldn’t find it.”

“I found it whilst cleaning out the attic, hidden under the desk. There was a loose floorboard, so I pried it open, and found an envelope.”

Her heart began to race. “Yeah, yeah, what did it say?”

The Doctor went to his desk, and picked up the envelope. He offered it to her. “Have a look.”

Rose took it, sat in the chair near the blackboard, and began to read.

_Dear John,_

_I hate writing letters as you should know. I’m not the most articulate, nor eloquent with words, so I shall just be plain._

_I was taken in by Torchwood following your escape. They hoped to use me to find you, but it became clear to them that you had disappeared much the way Rose had. They called you a code name: the Doctor, which made me laugh ever so much. I digress._

_Jack relayed my messages to Reinette and Sarah Jane, and together they assisted in my release. I travelled with Reinette to Paris undercover as her lady’s maid to get them off of my trail. She wedded her betrothed, the Lord Guillaume d’Étiolles, a month later. I remained with her until I received word that Sarah Jane and Jack were successful in thwarting Saxon. They managed to smuggle the bulk of the meteorite to a safe location, thanks to my assistance, where it should always remain._

_I have given you the very basics, because it is my hope that someday I can see you again and tell you everything else. I can just see it though. You’re there with little Jenny, Rose, and that daft blue box of yours, living a life happier than ever, and that’s the way it should be._

_Love always,_

_Donna Noble_

Rose blinked away a surge of tears as she folded up the brittle letter. She didn’t know what to say, but relaxed against the Doctor’s comforting embrace.

“There’s something else,” he said gently.

She nodded, and went with him as he guided her into the front room—the only room she had yet to see. Her jaw dropped at what lay before her eyes.

An easel with a blank canvas stood by the window, illuminated by a cluster of candles on the windowsill. There was also a cabinet filled with painting and drawing supplies, and a desk sporting a computer with a drawing tablet. Rose’s knees began to wobble, and all of the words she could possibly say disappeared into the ether.

She felt the Doctor take her hand once more, and the contact was just enough to bring her down from the clouds. He was on his knee before her, gazing up to her with earnest brown eyes.

“Rose Tyler,” he began with a thick swallow.

The world swirled around her and left only the Doctor’s unfaltering presence as her anchor.

“I know now more than ever that this is where I should like to live out the rest of my days. With you,” he swallowed, and took a breath, “if you want.”

She stared at him, his words flowing like honey through the air. They didn’t quite register at first, but her heart had obviously heard, for it began to beat like a train across the tracks.

“I had so many other things I wanted to say, but I’m not terribly good at—“

Somehow she’d ended up on her knees before him, and her lips had stopped his mouth from running. He hummed into her kiss, and his body went slack. She parted from him for the briefest of moments, their noses touching.

“I have a ring for you,” he said. “But it’s, well, it’s sort of hanging from the ceiling with the mistletoe. I _was_ going to—”

“Yes,” she breathed. “That’s my answer. Now stop talking, and just kiss me.”

And so he did.

 

 _The end._ _  
_(Or is it? Stay tuned…)__


	14. Epilogue Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Lostinfic and Lauraxxtennant for the beta!   
> Part one features a paradox fix, and a wedding. No children/pregnancy yet, so if you're not fond of that sort of thing, it won't be till the next half.

_3 Months Later | London, 2009_

The Doctor entered a large broom closet in the Torchwood archival basement, peeling a banana. It was a bit of a tight fit, for his blue time cupboard had been squeezed inside, displacing boxes of cleaning supplies. Rose leaned against the time cupboard, eyes focused on an electronic tablet. Her hair was disheveled by the hasty placement of a small headset, and a line formed between her brows as she poked at the screen. Not once did she look up to acknowledge him. After swiping the screen, her thumbnail went straight to her teeth. He hesitated before taking another bite of the banana, losing the desire for it in the presence of her palpable worry.

But she needn’t worry. All he had to do was plant the duplicated photo with the cipher message in the archive box before it was discovered by Rose in the recent past. They didn’t have to go back far; the day prior would do. And they had a solid plan to boot. He’d upgraded his time machine substantially, and it would be far less conspicuous in a broom closet than would a giant platform with blinking lights. They’d even performed a couple of test runs that went swimmingly.

The Doctor chucked the banana peel in the bin nearby, and strode up to her. He gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Oi, I’m calculating.”

“Sorry, I forgot how distracting my affection can be for you even in this dreadful caretaker’s uniform.” The Doctor gestured to the name badge that read ‘ _John Smith_.’ When she _still_ hadn’t acknowledged him overmuch, he crossed his arms.

“Really, Rose, what do you think?”

Rose rolled her eyes, but he noted mirth in the little tug of her lips. “Shouldn’t you change a bit more than your last name?”

“I’ll use a Scottish accent.” He tilted his head, and peered down at the tablet. “Again?”

She pointed at the readout on the screen. “There’s a lot of interference here, see? It’s having trouble calibrating down to the second. And what if security sees you?”

He frowned. “Pete assured us that this location would experience very little traffic at any point in time after the year 2004. This uniform,” he tugged at the lapel of the overcoat, “has been standard issue for well before then. If anyone spots me, they’ll not think anything of it. And surely the interference wouldn’t cause that wide of a margin of error.”

“We only tested in the lab. Also, I found out on the fifth of November in 2005, they had a pipe burst in this area of the basement and had to move stuff around during repairs, so we’ll have to narrow the margin to avoid you ending up there.”

“Oh, well. That’s not so bad.” He slid on his specs to peer at the data more closely. “But, that means it pushes things up to the very day you were at Torchwood. We can’t risk you going there and finding no photo at all! I was never there to create it this time around!”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell—” She put her hand on the headset to respond to whatever had been said to her. “Standby. There’s a bit of a problem. Yeah. Good idea, bring it down.”

Moments later, Mickey entered the closet with a door placard.

“Thanks, Mick,” Rose said, not looking up from the tablet. “Hope it doesn’t say something daft like _‘Room of Requirement’._ ”

The Doctor perked up at the reference.

“I don’t even know what that is.” Mickey handed the placard to the Doctor. “Anyway, put this on the closet door. That’ll keep away anyone lookin’ for a mop or whatever.”

The Doctor read the placard. _Objects of Unknown Origin_.

“Clever! Now that’s a room I should like to find myself.”

“Thought so. Came up with it meself.” Mickey beamed, rolling his shoulders back.

The Doctor clapped Mickey on the back approvingly, and then slid the placard into the large envelope with the photo. He moved to Rose’s side. The worried look in her eyes had only worsened as she glowered at the tablet.

“Fret not, Rose Tyler. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He gently pried the tablet from her hand and offered it to Mickey. “Can’t have you running into yourself.”

Rose gave a watery smile. “I know. Still think it’s just as risky for me to run into you.”

He put his hand on the side of her face, and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I’ll be careful. Promise. This’ll be the first of many, but we’ll take care of them all, you and me. In no time we’ll be experts at timeline bypass surgery—oh! That’s good. Anyway, it’ll be as simple as Boltzmann’s entropy formula.”

She leaned into his touch and chuckled a little. “Yeah. Cos that sounds easy.”

“I could do it in my sleep.”

“Love you,” she said on an exhale.

He kissed her. “And I love you.”

Mickey coughed. “We ready yet? There’s really nothing else to do at this point. It is what it is.”

“D’you have your, uhm, screwdriver? To get by the security doors,” Rose asked.

“Yep.” The Doctor reached into his uniform to show her where it rested snugly in the inside pocket. He had made a few modern modifications that enabled it to do, well, almost anything. “Never leave home without it, you should know.”

Rose brightened at the sight of it, but she quickly sobered. “Micks, got his janitorial profile hacked in or whatever?”

Mickey chuckled at her choice of words. “Yeah, it’s ‘ _hacked in_ ;’ set to upload wirelessly from his, uh, screwdriver, once he’s there. So delete it before you leave, got it? Then you just gotta hope the guards don’t detain you, and don’t say nothin’ stupid like ‘I’m just a jolly ol’ chap off for a tiffin, gents,’” he said with an affected posh accent, pretending to tip his hat.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “I’ve never said anything like that in my life.”

Rose laughed at them, and then spoke into her headset. “Okay, we’re a go.”

The Doctor entered the cupboard, but not before giving Rose a little flirtatious eye-waggle to keep her spirits up. She winked at him before she closed the door. After settling into the small bench, he removed the pocket watch from his coat, verified that it was set to the desired date, and placed it in the recess on the control panel. The machine started up, and in a wink he was whisked back in time.

Once the swooshing sensation in his stomach had passed, he checked the newly installed computer terminal on the control panel. He’d arrived on the exact day Rose was to find the photo.

 _Nothing to panic about_ , he thought as he began to panic. His pulse hammered in his ears, and his breaths came shallow and tight. “Come on, come on, come on, think,” he whispered, fingers tapping a frenetic rhythm on the console.

He shook his head to snap himself out of it, and inspected the time again. Right. He had precisely two hours until Rose would walk by with Pete.

He stepped out of the cupboard and into the dark closet, screwdriver at the ready to illuminate the darkness. The familiar astringent odor of cleaning products disorientated him, but Rose and Mickey were gone and things were in slightly different places, reassuring that he had indeed gone back in time. After ensuring that his employee profile had wirelessly uploaded, he opened the closet door a crack and stuck the door placard outside. Everything was quiet in the hall, save for an odd sort of moaning in a distant corridor. Sounded a bit like a wounded animal, or—no, he didn’t want to get stuck on that right now. He located the cleaning cart. Pulling it out of the closet, he turned around and pushed it straight for the archival room as he’d practiced.

The two guards were in position outside of the meteorite room. They barely acknowledged him as he pulled the retractable ID badge from his belt and pretended to swipe it through, screwdriver hidden in his sleeve to trigger the locking mechanism. He whistled a tune, and pushed the cart inside. The door shut, and he went about actually sweeping the floors on his way to the archive room.

Once inside, he knew there’d be no surveillance, so he dropped the broom. He located the correct box on the shelf, he found the old envelope of photos and negatives. Just as they’d hoped, the original photo was not there. But for all the relief he felt, it was still rather a precarious task. Time itself perched on a razor’s edge.

He removed the replicated photo from the envelope and gave it one last glance-over. They had simulated it perfectly. So perfectly that something caught his eye that he hadn’t noticed before. Something nestled within the equations on the blackboard, a layer even deeper than the cipher intended for Rose to uncover. Each variable in the equations represented a phonetic sound in Gàidhlig, the language spoken by the people in the Scottish village where they’d found Jenny. How could he not have noticed before? The syllables swirled in his mind, coming together to form a message.

_Even though you will otherwise endure, her touch alone is worth everything you will have to do to make up for this moment._

It was more than a message. It was an oath to himself across alternate realities. And _crikey_ was he a sap.

He clenched his jaw and swallowed, overcome with emotions that were his, but were no longer his at the same time. Everything seemed to suddenly tilt around him, and all of his senses wobbled. For a moment, he could see everything. All of time and space. Various lives—his lives—branched out in all directions. Versions of himself he might’ve been; versions of himself he could never be all layered over each other like ghosts. He swore he could even feel the earth turning, sense the universe spreading ever outward across the ages.

It all faded as quickly as it came, and he had to study the taut, freckled flesh over his own knuckles to reassure that he was still the same man.

Sufficiently rattled, he slid the replicated photo into the envelope with the others, and pushed the box back on the shelf. He was right, that might’ve been version of himself. He had lived without her for three years. He could live without her for three more, and three more thereafter. But it would be like the earth spinning under a starless sky. Any poet could compare a lover to the sun, or the moon. But the stars… they inspired wonder. Made people wish for things.

He left the room feeling outside of himself. In a daze, he grabbed the broom and cart, and returned to the broom closet without being bothered. Once concealed in darkness, he hesitated, compelled to stay there until he heard her run by. It wasn’t enough to assume, he had to _know_ that it worked. And so he leaned against the door, pressing his ear to it. He closed his eyes, and kept them shut.

Everything went silent for a time. A half hour or more. And then, right on target, he heard footsteps down the hall. Two pairs. One with a distinct gait that he recognized from the hallways and courtyard of the university. His heart clenched, and he felt daft as a brush for adoring the mere pattern of her footsteps. He sighed once they’d faded off. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing accompanied him for more than an hour thereafter. And then at last he heard her voice, and her fast feet heading down the hall.

Pete called out to her, and then a crackly message over a com device echoed down the hall.

“ _She’s in, sir.”_

The elevator, that voice’d meant. Still, he waited until all of the commotion in the hallway had ceased before he removed the placard from the door. He then ducked into the time machine, and returned to the future.

When he opened the cupboard door, he discovered Rose sleeping against a stack of boxes. Her clothes were the same, but she appeared a bit… disheveled. A lab coat was pulled over her legs like a blanket, and her arm was hooked around a little sofa pillow from the staff break room. There were empty cups of tea on a stool beside her, and empty boxes of carry out scattered on the floor. His heart dropped like a lead weight.

She stirred, and upon seeing him, she scrambled to her feet, making the Styrofoam boxes in her path crunch and squeak against each other.

“Doctor!” She flung her arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he said, pulling her close and lifting her up. “Told you I’d be back. Er, how long has it been?”

“Four days,” she said, burrowing her face into his neck as her feet swung.

He stroked her hair, and set her back on her feet. “Okay, that’s, that’s a bit longer than we expected. So we’ve got some kinks to work out.”

“I’ll say.”

“We’ll make sure to work them out before the next time. The data from this one will help immensely.”

“I know.” She sniffled. “I saw that the trajectory was thrown off, and you were there the day of. Already have a team working out the change algorithm from the altered timeline.”

He smiled, chest swelling with pride. “I used it to my advantage. Wanted to, ah… make absolutely sure it worked, so I placed the photo and hung around. I heard you running away with it like you had with the original, and here we are. Still together.”

She laughed even as tears filled her eyes. “Oh, god. We did it!”

“One down.” He beamed a smile.

“A dozen or so to go.”

 

_1 Year Later | Muirbaile, Scotland | Spring, 1923_

The meadow behind the tavern burgeoned with wildflowers. As did the highland and shorelines beyond. They even invaded the crop parcels to some degree. Their abundance was somewhat unprecedented, though it was entirely possible his perception of things was a little skewed on a day like today.

Twinflower, primrose, and daisy. Oxtail and dandelion. Rockfoil. Heather. The Doctor named them over and over in his mind to pass the time.

Nearby, a village elder plucked the strings of a clàrsach, entertaining the few people gathered with evocative melodies. A breeze off the ocean kept him cool, and the presence of familiar faces kept him grounded. But it all did little to calm the impatience rioting in his mind, making him fidgety. He wanted to pace, to ramble about whatever subject tripped into his mind, but he couldn’t. Blimey, he should’ve taken Jack up on that glass of scotch before he came out here.

Donna stood at his side in an indigo silk crepe dress and matching Greek-style headband. Golden beading along the waist and skirt of her dress reflected the late afternoon sunlight. She looked splendid, even as she nudged him square in the ribs. He yelped.

“All right, future boy?”

“Ow,” the Doctor supplied. He rubbed his side as his mouth returned to a tight line.

“Relax your jaw, would you? Look like you’re about to have an enema.”

Jack, who stood next to her in his decorative military uniform, laughed without restraint.

The Doctor sighed, and just kept staring at the tavern, knowing any moment Rose would walk the little petal-strewn pathway up to where he stood. He moved on to naming the constellations that would soon appear in the sky overhead if they didn’t get on with it. What was taking so long anyway? His stomach lurched as he tried not to entertain the notion that she could be getting cold feet.

“Now you look like someone fed you a pear,” Donna said from the corner of her mouth.

He turned slightly to her. “I came all the way to the 1920s so you could be my best man, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Oh, stop. It’s what you missed the most about me.”

He sighed at how right she was.

Beside the clàrsach-player, a woman with a fiddle under her chin struck up a joyful air. The vibrato of strings made a bright duo with the harp’s elegant plucks. Everyone quietened and turned as the back tavern door opened at last.

Jenny stepped out first, wearing a drop-waisted frock and an airy shawl that sparkled like stars. She wobbled and nearly fell, not used to heeled shoes on grass, and recovered with a mirthful cringe. The Doctor fought the urge to do the fatherly thing and rush forth to assist her, but the music faded off on a long, eager note. He froze in place.

Rose had appeared under the lanterns along the tavern awning. Her hair shone like spun gold, held up with crystal and pearl combs. A veil fluttered behind her, and a silken ivory gown draped down to her shoes. Her shoulders were encircled by a lacy overlay that gathered at a silk cord high on the waist of her bodice. Her gown, with its translucent layers flowed from her hips and around her legs as she took her first steps towards him. She was exquisite. Both ephemeral and unbreakable. A goddess plucked right out of art nouveau. Nearby the photographer’s bulb flashed. Time sped up and slowed down all at once.

She smiled when their eyes met across the distance. His heart pounded, and he curled his hands into fists from want of touching her. It reminded him of when she’d accidentally walked in on _him_ having his staff photo taken. They’d only just met, but already she’d stirred something within him.

A bouquet of flowers from the meadow was nestled in the hook of her arm, which she passed to Jenny once she reached the end of the path.

The Doctor reached for her hand, but she slipped her arm through his instead, pressing her body to his side. Her eyes were soft, quixotic, yet her lips remained curved in an almost wicked, knowing smile. Oh yes, she had him. For now and always.

The priest began the ceremony as the sun descended. He wove together elements of the old pagan ways and the new. Vestiges of a lost time amongst the lofty Christian prose. It suited them in a sense, not that he was terribly religious. But he and Rose were the embodiment of such a concept. The past and future converging to make a present that was relative to wherever they were, as long as they were together. They shared their vows as a cord of silk was wrapped around their wrists, joining them together in earthly symbolism that they hardly needed. If a hundred years couldn’t keep them apart, nothing could. But it meant something, the symbolism. The display. It was for time itself to know— _we are together._

Stars appeared in the dusky sky. Twilight; the in-between. Day meeting night, as it were. Another layer to the allegory, and he wondered if Rose had known this when she planned things. Regardless, he leaned in to kiss her before the priest could finish blessing their union. The way Rose smiled into the kiss made him go in for a bit more, drawing whistles and cheers from the crowd. To his unreserved delight, as he kissed her all over her face, she giggled and tucked her cheek against her shoulder.

“I’ll get you back for that!” Rose laughed, her fingers curling under his lapels.

“Rose Tyler, you had better.”

She crushed her lips against his, and her feet kicked the air as he lifted her up.

“Now that’s how you kiss your bride!” Jack announced.  Possibly. The Doctor couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to much else beyond her tongue against his.

The fiddler struck up a lively reel, and other musicians joined in. The townsfolk who had come to watch the ceremony began to dance and clap in time with the music. The innkeeper and her helpers brought food out to the terrace, and soon the meadow was alive with revelry.

The Doctor watched, bereft, as Rose gave Donna and Jack warm embraces. They began to converse, giving him a moment to appreciate the presence of several individuals that wouldn’t have been there if Rose had not come back in time to fetch him. If he had not taken the risk in showing her the way.

He smiled as he watched Jenny nattering with the other village youths that once were kept away from her. They skipped off as a group toward Jenny’s old caravan, and that was about when he felt Rose grab his hand.

“Let’s go,” she said, grinning.

He complied with a reverence that would make the most needful God envious.

They slipped away towards the shore before anyone else could wrangle them into a shower of congratulatory nonsense. Fireflies flit around them, like the stars had come down from the heavens to give their own sort of approval, as they dashed through the rushes along the shore. Rose flung off her shoes, and wandered to the beach, letting the cold, northern water lap at her toes. She cried out, cursing the icy temperature, and he wanted to be the one to make her warm.

 “Do you remember, Rose,” he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind, “the first thing I said to you?”

Rose grinned. “Is this a trick question?”

“I’d never trick you.”

“The first thing I ever heard you say was ‘really don’t want to do this.’

He laughed and turned her around. “You were in the cupboard! Thank God I didn’t belch.”

She rubbed his arm in the most distracting way. “I’d still have fallen in love with you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“It’s a bit cold out here, yeah?” She bit her bottom lip. Her eyes refocused on his neck, and followed the line of his tie down into his waistcoat. He swallowed.

“Come with me,” he said, and lifted her up into his arms.


	15. Epilogue Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for children, pregnancy, growing old together, and death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes the epilogue, and the story all together. Thank you so much for reading, and for your wonderful reviews. Thank you to my betas, kilodalton, lostinfic, and lauraxxtennant, who helped me make it even better with their suggestions and encouragement. I had such a great time writing this, and it's bittersweet to have it come to an end.

_Five Years Later_  
Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, New York City  
August, 1928

A little girl wearing a ruffled yellow swimsuit rushed along the shore, chasing the frothy waves as they fanned out over the sand. She squealed with joy when the water swirled around her feet.

“Daddy! It’s got me!”

Rose stood nearby, watching from under the shade of her parasol as the Doctor charged at their daughter. He picked her up, lifting her high in the air, splaying sunrays.

“Now _I’ve_ got you!”

The girl responded with the kind of pure, gleeful laughter that made every sleepless night and baffling meltdown worth it. Rose couldn’t contain a smile of her own, and unconsciously pressed her hand to her heart. She never thought she’d want children. Not that it had been an emphatic decision, rather just one of those things that she didn’t think she’d have to worry about for a long time.

And then accident number one came along. The Doctor’s unabashed delight on the matter had quickly turned her thoughts. He’d be a good father, she reckoned. He’d be the _best_ father. In more ways than she could possibly quantify, she’d been right. They didn’t even have to give up the life they’d grown accustomed to—travelling the world, even time itself—once they’d gotten a handle on things.

Elise, as he’d wanted to name her, seemed to have been born to travel. She loved the long journeys across the ocean to faraway lands. Rose’s fondest memories of their new family were of carrying little Elise in a wrap. She’d sleep, warm against her back as she held the Doctor’s hand through a primeval beech forest in Germany, or search for bugs under stones alongside the temple ruins of Ellora. 

And now at five years old, things had not changed in the slightest. They’d gone back in time to spend summer holiday with Donna in celebration of another successful paradox resolution. Just one more remained—the biggest of all—the Doctor taking on Susan Foreman as his apprentice. But that wouldn’t happen for a few decades yet.

“Time travel safe when you’re expecting?” asked Donna, looking pointedly at Rose’s round belly. “I mean, obviously it must be if you’re here. John would’ve forbade it over his skinny dead body if so.”

Rose laughed, and rubbed her stomach. “Since I’ve still got several weeks to go, it’s safe as houses. Teleportation is less so, but he’s not finished with that project, so who knows.”

Donna shook her head. “Bonkers, all of it. But he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

“Even happier now that we can visit you on the regular. How’ve you been, anyway?”

“Lovely. Quite a life in Paris. I often feel like I won the lottery! But I do miss home. Torchwood’s still mucking about, but they haven’t got the power they once had. Jack is seeing to that. Speaking of, he’ll be sore that he missed out meeting her.”

Rose kept her sights on the Doctor in his silly, era-appropriate, pinstriped swimsuit. He had their daughter up on his shoulders as he waded through the salty waves.

“You were the top priority, but tell him we’ll be back.”

“She looks ever so much like her father. Same dimples.”

“Yeah. She also has his brilliant mind,” Rose said dreamily, heart leaping like it always would for him.

“She sure is taking this whole thing rather well. Not many children get to go on holiday in a time machine.”

“Oh, Elise loves this.” Rose laughed. “We’ve taken her on a few other trips, and then she stays with mum when the Doctor and I go. It’s normal to her, you know? No different than, like, boarding a ship and crossing the ocean. She wants to see dinosaurs next.”

Donna’s jaw dropped. “Is that possible?”

“I reckon so, but we’ll have to pop over first to check it out.”

“Responsible. Till you get your heads bitten off by something.”

Rose laughed. “He’s building this sort of robot that’ll go out and gather information for us to keep that from happening.”

“How can you all fit in that thing, anyway?”

“That’s what I told him! He said, ‘Imagine a whole dimension inside the box someday.’ And just winked at me.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “What a queer way to flirt. Does it work on you then?”

“What?” Rose deflected, cheeks warming.

“Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Jenny, still petite for her sixteen years, joined Rose and Donna after a stroll on the boardwalk with Reinette. She licked her ice cream from melting over her fingers, and shielded her eyes against the sun.

“Elise’ll want one, you know,” Rose said, eyeing the delicious treat. “Hell, I want one.”

“Have dad get one for you. I’m not walking all that way again.”

“I might do.”

Donna folded her arms at Reinette. “I don’t reckon you thought to get one for me, milady?”

“Je suis désolée.” Reinette smiled behind her hand. “Don’t be cross. Come, I’ll take you for one now.”

The two women wandered off towards the boardwalk. Jenny remained at Rose’s side. The sea breeze sprayed sand against their shins and cooled their shoulders from the warm sun at their backs. Rose adjusted her parasol to shade the both of them.

“They were measuring the length of women’s swimsuits up on the boardwalk,” Jenny said. “One lady even got arrested! Just when I start to feel like I miss this time, I’m reminded exactly why I’m glad I came with you and dad.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “Better than that time in Salem.”

Jenny’s eyebrows went up. “That was your fault, mum. You were the one who snuck off with dad’s screwdriver.”

“Glad we saved those girls though. Could’ve been nasty.”

“It was for many others before them.”

“It’ll always be like that, I’m afraid.”

The Doctor wandered up, and lowered Elise from his shoulders.

“Mum, I want one of those!” Elise hopped as she pointed at Jenny’s nearly finished cone.

Jenny popped the rest of her treat into her mouth, and put her hands on her knees as she looked down at Elise.

“Hey, I’ve got a better idea. D’you wanna build a sand castle with me?”

Elise beamed. “Yeah!”

“There’s a perfect spot! Come with me.” Jenny reached for Elise’s extended hand, and off they went.

“She won’t forget about that ice cream,” said the Doctor once he and Rose were alone.

“We’ll have to go together after tea.” She rubbed her stomach with her free hand and rolled one of her shoulders, feeling stiff.

The Doctor rocked on his toes in the sand. “All right?”

“Yes. Wouldn’t mind sitting down, but the breeze is nice.”

“I’ll rent a chair for you.” He started to walk off, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him against her.

“Wait.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Hold this.” She gave him the parasol. “I’m going to go in for a swim.”

He pouted beneath the shelter of tassel and lace. “Can’t I go with you?”

She slipped the fluttering shawl from around her arms, tossing it with their belongings nearby. She smiled at him over a shoulder. “Only if you can catch me.”

He narrowed his eyes and a wry grin spread across his face. “Oh, but I’m fast. Not to mention you’re encumbered.”

She took a step backward. A challenge.

He stepped towards her, but paused. “We musn’t be too reckless. Don’t want anything to happen to Arthur.”

Rose made a face. “We crossed off that name, I thought.”

He sniffed. “It’s a good name. Strong and classic, like me.”

She giggled. “Mmm, I’d believe you if you weren’t holding a fancy umbrella.”

“I’m secure in my manliness, thank you very much.”

With a deftness that belied her condition, she dashed off towards the waves, leaving him struggling with how to close the dainty contraption so he could pursue. She waded out where she could float, and let the water ease the heaviness and the aches in her body. Within moments, the Doctor had caught up with her. But rather than like a lion with its quarry, his touch was benevolent. He gently pulled her back against his chest so she could rest her head on his shoulder and let her feet drift out before her. She closed her eyes at the relaxing undulation of the waves flowing under them.

“I’ve got you,” he said, kissing her temple.

Too lulled by bliss to respond, she just rolled her head to the side so she could press a kiss to his neck. His arm tightened around her, and he slid his hand down to her belly.

“Both of you.”

 

_Winter, 2039 | 30 years later_

Rose stood on the pavement before the old Victorian rowhouse she shared with the Doctor. Her breath froze on the air, and she wiggled her fingers in her gloves for warmth. There was a light on in the front room. He shouldn’t be home yet. It was Tuesday, and he worked late on Tuesdays to grade papers and write lectures. Of course, today wasn’t just any ordinary Tuesday.

Mickey, now the head of engineering at Torchwood, had urged her to go on home and rest. Mickey knew she still mourned her step-father’s death, but that wasn’t the sole cause of her melancholy. Everything hinged on today. Her whole life as she knew it. Every paradox she’d fixed with the Doctor had paved a pathway to this moment, and if it collapsed—

A lifetime of memories swelled in her heart. They were real as ever, surely. No matter what happened today. The adventure, the magic, the dreamy afternoons in the Doctor’s embrace. The days she’d been greeted at this very door by the little laughing faces of her children. They’d rush up and hug her legs, and then go back to their games or homework. They were grown now, and on their own. Elise a scientist at Torchwood, and James a cellist for the London Symphony Orchestra. Jenny, well, she could be anywhere in the world by now.

Susan would return to university today, and ask the Doctor to be her mentor. He would tell her she could begin by reading over the lecture he’d just written. She’d call him grandfather as a joke, because he’d start telling her stories of days gone by like grandfathers do. But it would stick, and someday she’d love him as though it were true, because she never knew her real grandfather. Never knew her real parents, either. He understood that kind of sorrow.

This all had to happen, maybe not exactly so, but it had to nonetheless, because one day he would give her the pocket watch.

Rose entered the home at last, and paused, startled at the commotion inside. The gramophone by the stairs belted out a happy melody from the late 1890s, and the smell of herb-roasted lamb and maple-glazed carrots drew a growl from her belly. She set her things down on the chaise by the window.

“Doctor?”

There was a mild clamour in the kitchen. She crossed the room and peered within. The Doctor stood at the centre of a culinary tornado, frilly apron tied round his middle. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up. Used pots and plates were stacked in the sink, discards from ingredients littered the counters, and the stove top was entirely obscured by a small fleet of simmering pans. He leaned over one of the pans to taste from a wooden spoon.

Her cheeks warmed at the sight of him. For all his years, he remained as handsome as ever, but now wasn’t the time.

“Blimey, are you all right in here?”

He turned to her with his brows furrowed. “You’re early,” he said, pushing his specs up the bridge of his nose.

“Only just.” She put her hands on her hips. “Hey, _you’re_ early!”

“This was all to be a surprise,” he whinged, setting the spoon down.

Rose smiled, heart lifting up like a kite. “Does that mean…?”

He hummed and bent down to open the oven. A cascade of aroma filled the room—rosemary, thyme, fig, and garlic. He slid on a pair of mitts and pulled the roast out, but appeared in a mild state of panic when he realised there wasn’t a clean surface on which to put it.

Rose hurried to his rescue, and fetched a cooling rack from the cabinet, placing it upon their little breakfast table.

“You said you’d be home late. It’s Tuesday.”

“I decided to cheat time a little. Stayed late, but came home early.”

She grinned at that. “Well? Are you gonna tell me?”

He ran a hand through his messy be-silvered hair, then grabbed her up in a hug. “Nope! Not yet.” He kissed her.

The little knot of apprehension in her solar plexus began to unwind. He wouldn’t do this if things had gone awry. But then again, there were times when he hid the truth from her so that she wouldn’t worry.

 _I hate to see you suffer._ Were his words.

Just recently he had swept her away to St. Paul de Vence to show her the Medieval stone villages. They watched the sunset from the village ramparts, bones sore from all their walking, and all the while he’d known that her father had been diagnosed with lung cancer. The knot returned, tighter. So did a touch of anger. He _knew_ better. They’d had this row before.

He noticed her shift in mood, and put his hand on the small of her back. He guided her out towards their front parlour. “I have good news. I just wanted to… well, dress it up a little, and you’re spoiling it.”

“Doct—”

“Go upstairs. Have a lie-down. Do a puzzle. Trim your nails. Give me thirty minutes, all right?”

“Fine.”

Ruffled, she headed upstairs. She first went to their room, his suggestion of a kip most inviting, but found herself too hungry to rest. Instead, she headed for their workroom.

At first she noticed that he’d left the time machine’s door open when he returned home from work in the 1960s. She closed it, and other evidence of his haste caught her eye. His brown leather academic briefcase was on his desk rather than on the floor at its side. It had disturbed stacks of papers and other objects, but given that they were already in a sort of organised chaos, she left it. His long coat and fedora had been tossed carelessly across the chair.

His wallet had fallen from his coat pocket during his apparent rush as well. It lay open on the floor to a photo that caught her eye. It was the photo of herself taken on their wedding day. She picked it up and stared at her own smiling face, resplendent in sepia and satin. So young and so in love.

Still in love, but not so young, as the lines and gray hairs would attest. Before she began to long for her youth, she stuffed it back into his coat pocket.

At last, the Doctor called her down. She went, and he took her hand at the bottom of the stairs.

“Today is a very special day,” said the Doctor. He guided her to the dining room where he had set serving dishes piled with more food than they could possibly eat alone. She sat down at the head of the table, and he pushed in her chair. She kept her hands in her lap as he kissed the top of her head, and moved to his side of the table.

The Doctor flapped open a napkin and placed it in his lap, then smiled up to her. “All of our hard work has paid off. Susan has begun to work as my apprentice!”

Rose clapped and grinned. “Oh, god!”

He passed the chips to her, beaming. “I made all of your favourites.”

She sighed and slouched in her chair after popping a chip into her mouth, so elated that she needed a moment to just...feel it.

“I need to pinch myself. It’s like a dream. Not to have to worry about that anymore.”

Smiling, she looked over at him to see that he wasn’t eating. His brows had tugged together ever so slightly, and his eyes were tight and faraway.

“Doctor, what is it?”

He blinked, and a smile re-emerged. “Just thinking. It’s been a long time since we had to address the paradox.”

“Yes, but now we don’t have to think about it anymore.” She took a bite of the lamb. “Oh, god. This is so good. Everything tastes better now!”

His smile slipped a little. “Yes, you’re right. You have nothing more to fear.”

She tilted her head at his choice of wording, but didn’t press it. He’d get ‘round to telling her. They resumed eating until a waltz began to play on the gramophone. _Greensleeves._

The Doctor jumped to his feet, and offered his hand.

“This song always reminds me that I could’ve had my arms around you sooner.”

Rose laughed. “Doctor, we don’t have to make up for it every single year.”

“We’re beyond that. It’s tradition, I’m afraid.” He grinned.

“But it’s not even Christmas Eve yet!”

She laughed and stood; his arms wound around her tightly. She could feel his heart beating double in his chest as they swayed.

“Let’s go to Kyoto—no, Rio—oh better yet—Tuscany! First thing.”

“Why not now?” Rose challenged, smiling up to him.

“Let’s eat first?”

“But I wanna keep dancing.”

He put his hand on her face, thumb skimming her bottom lip like she was twenty-five again.

“There’s a peach and blackberry crumble waiting.”

“We can always dance in Tuscany.”

 

***

 

The Doctor never told Rose what had struck him with sorrow that day. He reckoned she must have worked it out, because she had never brought it up again. Whilst indeed they were finished with all the timeline mending as a team, there was still one knot left to tie off himself.

He closed his hand around the pocket watch, and sighed. Soon, Susan would arrive to take it from him. Soon he would close his eyes. Soon he could be with Rose again.


End file.
